𝐇 𝐈 𝐑 𝐀 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇✔

e p i l o g u e

"Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was."

|M A X W E L L   K N I G H T|{UNEDITED}

8 years later:

The sun shines brightly in the afternoon sky, warming the garden with its golden light. Flowers like roses and jasmine bloom, filling the air with a sweet fragrance. Bees buzz around us, visiting each flower, while butterflies glide by, adding a splash of color to the green plants and grass surrounding us.

"Papa," My 6 year old daughter yells as she comes and jumps on me, her pink princess dress spreading all over my lap as she hugs me tightly.

"Yes, Anastasia?" I gently pat her brown curls down as she talks to me about a new bee that she saw on the flower just now, while I nod attentively and listen to her talk with her hands, as fast as Delilah does.

She was the exact fucking copy of Delilah, from the way her face looked to the way her curls formed naturally and to the exact way she talked and interacted with others.

My genes didn't even try with her, but I wasn't complaining, not at all.

The look on Delilah's face when I told her that she doesn't look like me at all was as if she had won the Olympics for our country. 

And that minx never failed to tease me about it, even after 6 years of Ana's birth.

But she could tease me all about it, as long as she didn't end up remembering the day of her birth, which was safe to say—the worst and the best days of our lives.

On delivery day, her water was "less," which meant that the amniotic fluid surrounding our baby was significantly reduced. This was first noticed during a routine ultrasound or examination. The doctors informed us that while some reduction in amniotic fluid can be normal, the levels in her case were lower than ideal, which can pose risks for both the baby and the mother.

Despite the stress and urgency, my Delilah remained incredibly composed. She faced each contraction with incredible fortitude, even as the doctors discussed possible interventions. The medical team provided careful management, and though the delivery was more complex than expected, her strength throughout was awe-inspiring. We were relieved and overjoyed when our Anastasia arrived safely, a testament to her bravery and the team's skillful care.

Just as I was thinking about the past, my eyes landed on the fucking goddess of my wife that was coming out of the house wearing a flowy flowery dress and I felt my breath hitch as it always does, for the last 19 years.

19 fucking years, that's how long I've loved Delilah for.

From treating her wound in the crappy storage room of our school, to seeing her hold our second baby in her arms as he giggles at the weird faces she makes, my life has never felt more complete than it has felt when I am with her.

Our second child, Adonis, who was also now babbling words that didn't make sense most of the time, was thankfully my Carbon copy, in a 2 year old form. This kid was one of the most stubborn and hardcore kid I have seen in my life, who is essentially way too spoiled by his Mama. But I can't blame him, his older sister is the same, or even more spoiled by me and Delilah.

And I like to think that's fucking okay considering how bad their parents were treated in their childhood, Delilah and I would rather have our children a little spoiled rather than ever feeling unloved or unwelcomed by us.

"Max," Delilah calls me out impatiently, her green eyes looking down at me as her soft brown curls flow down her shoulder, the wind making her dress flow even more. She was looking so fucking pretty, my heart lurched in my chest as usual.