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One year later

The spring sun is warm on my skin as I lie back on the lounge chair, the faint clinking of ice in my cocktail glass mingling with the laughter and chatter spilling from the yard. Thalia is beside me, her legs stretched out, her eyes soft but tired.

Around us, the courtyard is alive—the gentle hum of conversation, the distant clatter of a game in progress.

It’s hard to believe it’s been almost five months since that night—the night that changed everything.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The clock had just struck midnight, and Nick was away for a game. Alone, with my contractions growing stronger, Thalia stayed by my side—calm and steady as always.

We rushed to the hospital, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. And just hours later, in that sterile, bright room, I held her for the first time—our little Serena.

The moment Nick burst through the hospital doors, breathless and frantic after escaping his hotel room, was something out of a movie.

Not long after, our brothers and friends appeared, traveling from different cities and countries, their faces tired but glowing with love. And of course, our parents.

Serena came into the world through a cesarean, a tiny miracle who looks just like Nick—those sharp green eyes, that mischievous grin so familiar even now, five months later.

Now, as I watch my daughter in Colt’s arms—her giggles filling the air as he tosses her lightly in the air, catching her just in time—I can’t help but smile. Nick’s watching too, his brows furrowed in mock horror.

He was always protective, but now? He’s a thousand times worse, hovering like a protective hawk.

I never imagined this flood of love and chaos, but everyone fights to hold her, to spend time with her, to smother her in affection. The houses, the yard, our lives—they’re all fuller now.

Suddenly, I remember the question I once asked myself at the very start of all this—

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you thought “Damn, I did it!”?

I do now.

Looking at my gorgeous husband and our beautiful daughter, I know—without a doubt—I’ve made it.

I glance at Thalia and catch her sigh, heavy and long. Her eyes fix on someone across the yard—a man who’s been avoiding her for over a year. Someone whose presence shifts the air around her the second he walks into a room.

The weight in this silent moment presses down on me. Then, breaking the silence, I turn to her gently.

“Thalia, is everything okay?” I ask softly.

She meets my gaze, voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

EPILOGUE TWO

Nick

It’s August 10th.

Two years since the day Sierra walked down the aisle toward me, radiant and fierce, forever written all over her face. Two years since we became us—officially.

We’re tucked away on a quiet city break, just the two of us. No noise. No plans. No diapers. Just time and space and her.

These two years? Not perfect. There was a time it felt like we were done. Like we’d gone too far in the wrong direction to ever find our way back. The silence between us was louder than any fight we’d ever had. I thought I’d lost her. I thought we’d ruined everything.

But Sierra? She’s never been just a woman. She’s the fire, the calm, the storm, the shelter. And somehow, she didn’t give up.

And then came Serena—our daughter. Our miracle. Our second chance wrapped in baby pink and impossible love.

She’s probably running the entire household while we’re gone. Liam, Zayn, Kai, Noah, Ryan, Ethan, Chris, Theo, Colt, Aiden, Chase and Thalia are all home with her, sending us pictures every few minutes. Serena laughing. Serena chewing on someone’s phone. Serena being held like royalty. I can’t even think about how spoiled she’s getting without grinning.