No one moves.
“I believed protecting people meant deciding for them.” His grip tightens just enough for me to feel it. “It is choosing them every day, even when they make you face the parts of yourself you would rather bury.”
My eyes burn.
“I cannot promise you a life without danger. I cannot pretend I will become harmless.” His voice lowers. “But I will never make you smaller to fit inside my world. I will build a life where you have room to stand beside me.”
He pauses.
“And when you tell me no, I will hear you.”
It is not a perfect vow.
It is better.
The officiant turns to me.
I look down at our hands. Stefano’s are scarred and strong. They have held weapons. They have hurt people. They have learned, slowly and painfully, to open instead of close around everything they want.
Then I look at him.
“I used to think choosing someone dangerous meant I had failed myself,” I say. “I thought love was supposed to make you feel safe before anything else. Easy. Certain.”
“But safety can be a practice. It can be a person showing up after they have failed you and doing the work of becoming someone you can trust.”
Stefano’s jaw tightens.
“I will not promise to be quiet when you scare me. I will not promise to make myself easier to love.”
His eyes darken.
“I love you because you never asked me to be easy,” I say. “You asked me to be honest. You challenged me. You infuriated me. You made me want things I was terrified to want.”
Even Raven’s mouth twitches.
“I choose you with my eyes open. Not because I need you to save me. Because I want this life. I want our daughter. I want the twins at our table. I want the arguments, the late nights, the ruined coffee, and the way you look at me when you think no one else can see.”
I squeeze his hands.
“And I want you beside me when I build something that is mine too.”
Stefano closes his eyes for one brief second.
When he opens them, there is no distance left in them.
The rings are simple bands of platinum. Mine is engraved inside with one word.
Choice.
His has the same.
When he slides the ring onto my finger, his hand shakes once.
Barely.
Enough that only I notice.
The officiant says we are married, and the words land softly before anything else can break them.
