My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Epilogue 1- Fiona👸

I sat heavily on the bench in the garden, my swollen belly making it hard to find a comfortable position. The late afternoon sun casted a golden glow over the flowers, and for a brief moment, I thought I could finally get some peace. But that moment is short-lived.

"James, stop it! Give it back!" William's shrill voice cuts through the quiet. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, already exhausted. I just wanted a few hours outside, away from the endless chaos inside. Bruno and his wife were supposed to be watch them, but of course, the children had found me.

James, my second child, who was a year and a half older, had a firm grip on his younger brother's toy. William, always defiant at four years old, charged at him, fists balled up, determined to take it back. I knew how this would end. It always ended the same.

"Hannah, make them stop!" I groaned, though my six-year-old daughter needed no prompting. She was already marching up to her brothers, hands on her hips like the little mother she was.

"James! William! Stop it right now!" she scolded, plugging each of them by the ear, a stern look on her tiny face. "We don't fight! Fighting is bad! Now apologize to each other!"

I watched her with a weary smile. She was too much like me, always trying to restore peace. But as soon as she let them go, William burst into tears, running over to me with his face red and crumpled. I sighed deeply, my hands resting on my belly. Couldn't I have just one moment of quiet?

"Hannah," I said, half-warning. But as she turns, James pushed her from behind. Oh boy!

She stumbled but catches herself, spinning around with a growl. Before I could even open my mouth to scold them both, Hannah was already chasing James across the lawn.

"That's enough!" I called out, but my voice was drowned out by William's wails and the sound of James' mocking laugh. I tried to get up, but the effort it took to haul myself off the bench made me sit right back down. "Bruno!" I called, feeling my patience evaporate. "Elise! Anybody, please!"

Where was everybody?

Just as I was about to shout again, the kids collided with their father, who was walking in from the driveway. Samuel's timing couldn't have been better. He'd just arrived home, still in his work clothes, and already disentangling Hannah and James.

"Whoa there!" he said, catching them both by the arms. "What's going on here?"

"They started it!" Hannah huffed, crossing her arms.

James shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "She pulled my ear."

Samuel raised an eyebrow at them both, and even though I couldn't hear what he says, I saw the way they both settle down instantly, shoulders slumped in resignation. He'd always had that effect on them-calm but firm. It was something I'd come to rely on, especially now when I was too tired to play referee myself.

As he finished up with the kids, Elise, Bruno's wife, finally arrived with Bruno right behind her. They each scooped up a child, whisking them away for dinner. William whined about not being hungry, but a gentle reminder from Elise that his favorite meal was waiting quietens him down.

Samuel walked over to me, that warm, familiar smile on his face, and sat down next to me on the bench. I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"I'm getting too old for this," I muttered , rubbing my lower back.

Samuel chuckled, his hand coming to rest on my knee. "You're saying that to someone who's eighteen years older than you. How do you think I feel?"

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Eighteen years? You don't say! I'd never have guessed."

He smirked, leaning back against the bench. "I know. I'm aging like fine wine."

I laughed, but then my smile faded a little as I glanced down at my belly, feeling the familiar aches in my body. "Well, you might look the same, but I sure don't. I feel like a whale. And not the graceful kind-like a beached one."

Samuel turned his gaze toward me, his expression softening. "You don't look like a whale," he said, his voice gentle. "But if you were, you'd be the most beautiful one in the ocean."

I smiled, knowing he meant it. He'd always been like this, seeing me as beautiful no matter what changes my body had gone through over the years-through every pregnancy, every postpartum change, every stretch mark, every swollen ankle. Even when I couldn't stand to look at myself, Samuel was always there, loving me the same, maybe even more.

His hand found mine, and he squeezed it gently. "You're beautiful, Fiona. You always have been."

A rush of emotion rose in my chest, and I blinked back sudden tears. I knew I was hormonal, but his love-his unwavering, constant love-got to me every time. "I'm grateful for you," I whispered, my voice thick. "I thank God for you every day."

He leaned over, kissing the top of my head. "And I thank Him for you," he replied, his voice just as soft.

For a moment, we sat in peaceful silence, but it didn't last long. From inside the house, I heard the familiar sounds of our children bickering again-James and Hannah this time, their voices carrying through the open windows.

I groaned, leaning my head back against the bench. "I don't think I can handle any more after this one," I said, rubbing my belly. "I'm thanking God this one's a girl."

Samuel laughed, his hand resting protectively over mine on my belly. "I thought we agreed to have enough to fill at least half of the rooms in the house," he teased.

"Samuel!" I gasped, giving him a wide-eyed look. "We were joking! There are 24 main rooms in this house. I'm not having eight more children! I'm already losing my mind with the three we have!"

He threw his head back, laughing heartily, the sound was deep and rich, filling the space between us. His laughter was contagious, and soon I was giggling along with him despite my exhaustion.

When he finally stopped laughing, he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his side. "Don't worry, love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We'll work with whatever God gives us. And if this is the last, then we'll be grateful for that."

I smiled, resting my head against his shoulder. "Yes," I whispered . "We'll work with whatever God hands us. After all, we told Him to take charge of our lives a long time ago."

He hummed in agreement, and together we sat in the garden, savoring this moment of peace. For now, all was quiet, and I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude-for the man beside me, for our children, and for the life we've built together, chaos and all.