Silent Vows • LevixReader

Chapter 12

Five years later, the world looked different.

The snow had long since melted, replaced by the warmth of spring. The city, once scarred by war and hardship, had come back to life. Flowers bloomed along the cobbled streets, their petals catching in the breeze, and laughter drifted through the open windows of shops and homes. It was a season of renewal, a reminder that life—no matter how harsh—always found a way to begin again.

And so had we.

Levi and I built something together, something neither of us had thought possible back then. It wasn't always easy—nothing with Levi ever was—but it was ours. We had learned to live in the quiet spaces between words, to lean on each other when the weight of the past became too much.

And now, five years later, we had something more.

The small, soft giggles of a child echoed through the garden behind our home, where the sun peeked through the trees, scattering light across the grass. Our son, Erwin, toddled across the lawn, his dark hair bouncing as he chased a butterfly with a grin too big for his little face.

"Erwin, slow down," I called from where I sat on the porch, a smile tugging at my lips. "You're going to scare it away!"

Erwin stopped in his tracks, looking back at me with wide, mischievous eyes—so much like Levi's it made my heart swell. "Not scary!" he insisted, puffing out his chest in determination.

Behind me, the door creaked open, and Levi stepped outside, wiping his hands on a towel. The scent of tea leaves followed him—a familiar comfort after all these years. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching Erwin with that same quiet intensity I had come to know so well.

"He's got your stubborn streak," Levi muttered, a rare smirk ghosting across his face.

I laughed, leaning back into him as he came to sit beside me on the porch steps. "He's got plenty of yours too."

Levi huffed softly, but there was no real bite to it. He reached out, brushing his hand against mine, threading our fingers together in a gesture that still felt as steady and grounding as it had the first time.

Erwin made a small noise of frustration as the butterfly fluttered just out of reach, and Levi shook his head. "He's relentless."

I rested my head against Levi's shoulder, content to sit in the warmth of the spring sun and the life we had built. "Wonder where he gets that from," I teased, glancing up at him with a grin.

Levi rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched with the smallest smile. It was a subtle thing, but I had learned to recognize those moments—tiny victories that meant the world.

Erwin gave one last triumphant giggle as the butterfly landed briefly on his outstretched hand, its wings fluttering in delicate bursts. He turned toward us, beaming with pride.

"Papa! Look!" Erwin shouted, waving his tiny hand in the air as the butterfly took flight again.

Levi's eyes softened in a way that still caught me off guard, even after all these years. He didn't say much—he rarely did—but the way he looked at Erwin, like the boy was the most important thing in the world, said more than words ever could.

"Good job." Levi murmured, his voice low but warm.

Erwin ran toward us, his little feet pounding against the grass, and climbed eagerly onto Levi's lap, giggling as he settled in. Levi wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, and Erwin snuggled into his father's chest without hesitation, the way only a child who felt completely safe could.

I watched them together, my heart full to the brim with a kind of love I hadn't known was possible before Levi. It hadn't been an easy journey, but it had been worth every step, every stumble, every hard-won moment.

"You know," I said softly, tracing small circles on Levi's hand, "I never thought we'd end up here."

Levi tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine. "Neither did I."

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything we'd been through—the ghosts we'd laid to rest, the love we'd built piece by piece.

Erwin squirmed in Levi's arms, already restless, and Levi let out a quiet sigh, brushing his hand through his son's unruly hair. "You're trouble," he muttered affectionately.

Erwin just grinned, wrapping his arms around Levi's neck. "Love you, Papa!"

Levi stilled for a moment, as if the words had taken him by surprise, and I saw the flicker of emotion cross his face—so brief and quiet, but unmistakably real.

"Yeah," Levi whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Erwin's head. "Love you too, kid."

I smiled, resting my hand on Levi's arm, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around us like the spring breeze.

In that moment, I knew that no matter what the future held—whether it was smooth or stormy—we would face it together, as we always had. Because love, like healing, took time. And with Levi, I had found something worth holding onto.

The butterfly danced once more through the air, carried by the wind, and Erwin watched it go with wide, wonder-filled eyes. Levi's arm tightened around me, a small but steady reminder that we were exactly where we were meant to be.

And as the three of us sat together in the warmth of the spring sun, I knew, deep in my heart, that we had finally found our way home.
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End