𝐉𝐚𝐚𝐧 : 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

41○Them○ THE END✨

A LONG ASS CHAPTER AHEAD:)

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•A Happy Start, Jaan•
▪︎Author's Pov▪︎

Ashvik lay on the bed in their room, finally resting.
His forehead was wrapped in a bandage, his leg covered where the burns had blistered from the fall.
His palm, scorched from gripping hot iron, was dressed too.
Ointment covered the smaller wounds scattered across his body.

And now... he slept.

But even in sleep, he hadn't let go of her hand.

Amaira sat beside him, quiet and still, her eyes fixed on him.
His fingers were tightly locked around hers—like her touch was the only oxygen keeping him alive.

The room was silent.
The doctors had already left after checking on Amaira's brothers and Ashvik's friends, who'd walked away with only minor injuries.
Still, Amaira had made sure each of them got checked, even when they tried to deny it.
She had made the doctor prescribe medicine, just to be sure.

Then, the door creaked open gently.

Amaira didn't move much—just looked up.
One hand continued softly patting Ashvik's head, the other still tangled in his grip.

It was Salvatore.
Her papa.

He stepped inside quietly, walked over to his daughter, and gently patted her head.
His smile was warm—a silent reassurance that everything was okay.
Her brothers were fine. Her husband was safe.
Everyone had made it.

He held out a tray in his hands.

"Eat your medicine, Principessa." he said gently.

Amaira gave him a tired look, eyes heavy with worry and exhaustion.
But she didn't argue.
She quietly took the medicines with her one free hand.

Salvatore's eyes didn't miss the way her other hand stayed locked with Ashvik's.
He saw the fear, the care, the overwhelming love she held for her husband.
Even in her silence, her emotions spoke volumes.

"Is big brother and everyone okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Principessa. They're all fine. Just some tiny scratches. Nothing to worry about." he assured her, wanting to ease her burdened heart.

"I'll go see them," she said after a pause. "Can you stay here with Shiv? And please, just call me if he wakes up?"

Salvatore nodded with a small smirk.
"I'll call you, don't worry."

No matter how grown she was, even with her own family, their Amaira still lived in that same loving heart—full of warmth, fierce loyalty, and boundless love.

Her brothers.
Her father.
And now, her husband.

They were her world.
And she was still—and would always be—their little Amaira.

🦄

Amaira quietly stepped into the living room downstairs, where her brothers were scattered around in their usual chaos.

Ethan was carelessly sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
Xavier sat with his eyes closed, head tilted back in exhaustion.
Xander winced as Carlos tightened a bandage around his hand with unnecessary force.
Matteo, of course, was in full storyteller mode—dramatically narrating his heroic tales to a group of wide-eyed kids, smirking every time they gasped in awe.
And then there was Alessandro, sitting beside his wife who was glaring daggers at him. He kept insisting his wounds were "nothing serious" and that he didn't need a bandage—until one glare from her shut him right up. He was now fully bandaged.