A sound no one else notices.
She’s worked so hard to reclaim that part of her body, what was done to her, transforming it back into something gentle, not something stolen.
And God help me, I’m proud of her beyond words.
LEIF
Walking in behind me is Mara. She sticks close but not touching. Hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide as they drift over everyone in the room. She’s shy. Nervous. The kind of girl who reads the exits and watches everyone’s hands. Just like Claire used to.
“Mara,” I whisper, leaning close, “take your time. You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to.”
She nods once. And then her gaze lands on Claire. The way Claire leans into Erik’s side. The way Erik shields her without smothering her. The way Claire looks… alive.
Mara whispers, “She looks… happy. After everything.”
“She worked hard for that,” I murmur. “She fought for it. Erik fought with her.”
Mara’s voice trembles. “Do you think people like me can… have something like that?”
I look at her. Really look at her. Gentle soul. Wary eyes. The heart yearns for safety, yet it anticipates the possibility of danger.
“Yes,” I say. "Exactly, people like you.”
Her breath catches. Hope flickering in her eyes.
CLAIRE
Sven nearly tackles me with enthusiasm. “Claire! We’ve been working at the shop every day. Leander reorganized the entire romance section. A woman nearly screamed.”
Leander shoves him. “She reacted because you dropped a whole shelf on your foot.”
Sven shrugs. “Same difference.”
I laugh, really laugh, and it feels like stepping into sunlight after months underground.
Grace’s father smiles from the kitchen. “Everything at the store is running smoothly, sweetheart. We made sure of it.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”
Beside me, Erik slides a hand along my spine, slow and reassuring. “She’s getting better,” he says quietly. “Day by day.”
But it’s when he leans close, his breath warm against my ear, and murmurs, “Proud of you, baby,” that my heart clenches.
I began calling himDaddywhile I was in the hospital. He started calling me "baby" again about a month ago. Not thebabythat Dr. Rhys tried to turn me into.
But the baby I choose to be. For him. Safe. Loved. Protected.
ERIK
Dinner is a mess, but a good kind of chaos. Stellan and Rurik arguing about whether Viking ancestors would approve of air fryers.
Ivar is teaching Sven how to hold a baby. Grace’s dad is telling Bjorn that he is not feeding Freya enough. Through it all, Claire stays in my lap, her choice, her head tucked under my jaw and her fingers drawing lazy shapes on my forearm. Every now and then she whispers, “Daddy, it’s loud.Daddy, can we move to that corner?Daddy, stay with me.”
And I do. Always. But the best moment of the night happens without a word. Grace lifts Freya up, showing her off to the room. Freya coos. Everyone melts. And Claire goes still against me.
She tilts her head, her voice whisper-soft. “Daddy… I think I still want a baby one day.”
Time stops. I turn her face to me, gently. “Then we talk about it together. When you’re ready. When you want it. Not because of what they did. Only because you want it.”
