Forgiveness, Trust & Forever

Emily

Mornings in bed with Eleanora climbing between us shouting "Boo wake!"

Showers taken together when time allowed and toddlers did not sabotage romance.

Kisses that were no longer proof of survival.

Just want.

Just love.

Just us remembering that being parents did not mean we had stopped being people with bodies that still reached.

He looked at me now across the garden, our daughter laughing in his arms, our friends back around us, the world open enough to hold an afternoon.

And I knew.

Not in a panic.

Not in a rush.

Not as a way to patch old damage.

I wanted to marry him.

Not someday vague.

Not one day whispered in bed because fear made honesty slippery.

I wanted a life with him in public.

Private where it mattered.

Visible where it counted.

A husband.

A wife.

A daughter running ahead with flowers in her hands.

Not hiding.

Natalie followed my gaze.

"Oh," she said.

I looked at her.

"What?"

She smiled slowly.

"You're going to marry him."

My face heated.

"Shut up."

"You are."

"I said shut up."

"You have the look."

"What look?"

"The I'm furious that I'm happy look."

I stared.

Kelly called from the table, "She definitely has that look."

"How are you hearing this?" I demanded.

"I hear emotional weakness."

Anton nodded.

"She does."

Hero looked over.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said quickly.

Everyone else said, "Nothing," badly.

Hero's eyes narrowed.

Freddie, the traitor, grinned.

Eleanora pointed at me.

"Mmm happy."

The garden went quiet.

My throat closed.

Hero's face softened into something unbearable.

Natalie squeezed my hand.

Kelly looked away first, pretending to check her nails.

I looked at my daughter.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Mummy's happy."

Eleanora smiled like she had known all along.

Maybe she had.