Extended Epilogue
MATT
Five years later.
The barn door slides open, and three sets of small feet thunder across the concrete. Mara leads the charge, her dark curls bouncing, while Sophia and Liam trail behind like ducklings.
"Mama!" Mara shouts. "We brought you cookies!"
I follow them in, balancing a thermos of coffee and a paper bag. The smell of hay and antiseptic hangs thick in the air. Mira stands near the birthing stall, arms crossed, her belly round under her veterinary scrubs. At seven months, she's carrying this one lower than the others.
She glances over, and her face is tight. No smile. No warmth.
"Hey." I keep my voice even. "Thought you could use a break."
"Can't." She turns back to the cow, checking the monitor clipped to the stall rail. "She's close. Maybe another hour."
Sophia tugs on Mira's pant leg. "Mama, we made you peanut butter cookies."
Mira barely looks down. "That's nice, baby."
I set the thermos and bag on the supply cart and crouch to intercept the kids before they climb into the stall. "Come on, let Mama work. You can watch from here."
Liam presses his face against the rail, eyes wide. "Big cow."
"Yeah, buddy. Real big."
Mira shifts her weight, one hand on her lower back. Her jaw's locked, and she's breathing through her nose in that way she does when something's wrong. I watch her for a beat, then straighten up.
"You good?"
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
She exhales hard, still not looking at me. "I'm tired, Matt. That's all."
I step closer, lowering my voice so the kids don't hear. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened." She pulls her phone from her pocket, checks the time, shoves it back. "The cow's taking forever and I'm exhausted. Can we not do this right now?"
Her tone's sharp, clipped. I recognize it—she's shutting down, pulling away. Used to be she'd do this all the time, back when we first started. Now it only comes out when something's really eating at her.
I glance at the kids. Mara's trying to lift Liam so he can see better, and Sophia's sitting on the ground sorting through the cookie bag.
"Mara, watch your brother for a sec."
"Okay, Daddy."
I move in front of Mira, blocking her view of the cow. She tries to sidestep me, but I plant my feet.
"Matt—"
"Talk to me."
"I told you, I'm just tired."
"Bullshit."
Her eyes flash, and for a second I think she's going to snap at me. Instead, she sags a little, rubbing her temple. The fight drains out of her posture.
"I don't want to do this here," she whispers. "Not in front of them."
I cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing the base of her skull. "Okay. But we're talking tonight."
She closes her eyes, leaning into my hand for just a second. Then she pulls away, nodding once.
"Tonight."
I let her go, stepping back. The cow shifts in the stall, and Mira's back to business, checking vitals and murmuring to the animal in that gentle voice she saves for her patients.
I watch her work, worry settling heavy in my chest.
Something's wrong, and she won't say what.
The cow bellows, legs shifting. Mira snaps into action, moving around the stall with quick, sure hands. I herd the kids back to give her space.
"Daddy, what's happening?" Sophia asks.
"Baby's coming."
Mara's eyes go wide. "From her butt?"
"Sort of."
Liam giggles, and I ruffle his hair while keeping my attention on Mira.
She's all business now—gloves on, checking position, voice low and calm as she talks the cow through it.
Her shoulders are set, face focused. The tension from earlier is still there, but buried under layers of training and instinct.
Twenty minutes pass. The calf arrives slick and kicking, and Mira works fast to clear its airways. She doesn't ask for help. Doesn't look at me once.
When it's done, she strips off her gloves and washes up at the utility sink. Her hands shake as she scrubs.
"You okay?" I ask again.
"Yeah." She dries her hands on a towel, not meeting my eyes. "Let's go home."
The drive back is quiet. Kids chatter in the backseat, but Mira stares out the window, one hand on her belly. I reach over and rest my palm on her thigh. She doesn't pull away, but she doesn't lean into it either.
At the house, I get the kids inside and settled with a snack while Mira heads straight for the bedroom. I follow once they're distracted.
She's sitting on the edge of the bed, shoes off, staring at her phone.
"All right." I close the door behind me. "Talk."
She sets the phone down, fingers twisting in her lap. "I told you. I'm just tired."
"Mira."
"Matt, please?—"
"No." I cross the room and sit beside her. "You've been off for weeks. What's going on?"
Her throat works as she swallows. She won't look at me, staring at her hands instead. "I'm fat."
I blink. "What?"
"I'm fat and tired and I can't fit into any of my old clothes and I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself anymore." The words tumble out fast, raw. "I'm not who I was. I'm just... this."
She gestures at herself, face twisted with disgust.
My chest tightens. "Babe?—"
"You don't get it." Her voice cracks. "I used to be...
I don't know. Pretty. Hot. Now I'm just soft and stretched out and my boobs are huge and I have all these marks on my stomach and I—" She breaks off, wiping at her eyes.
"I saw pictures from six years ago and I looked so good and now I just look like someone's mom. "
"You are someone's mom."
"I know." She laughs, bitter. "I know that. But I miss being... her. The girl you first wanted."
I reach for her chin, turning her face toward mine. "Look at me."
She does, eyes wet, mouth trembling.
"You think I don't want you now?" I ask.
"I think you loved the way I looked then. And now..."
"Now you're more beautiful than you've ever been."
She scoffs, trying to turn away, but I hold firm.
"I'm serious. You think I miss that bratty girl who didn't know what she wanted?
Who ran from everything?" I stroke my thumb along her jaw.
"I love the woman you are now. The one who handles a breech birth without breaking a sweat.
Who stays up all night with sick kids and still gets up at dawn to feed the horses. Who looks at me like I'm everything."
Her breath hitches.
"You carried my babies," I continue. "Three of them. You gave me a family. A life. And yeah, your body changed. But you're still the most stunning thing I've ever seen."
"Matt—"
"Every curve. Every mark. Every soft inch of you." I lean in, brushing my lips against her temple. "I love you more now than I did six years ago. Because you're not that scared girl anymore. You're mine. Completely."
She exhales, eyes closing. A tear slips down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just... I feel so far from who I was."
"Good." I pull her into my lap, careful of her belly. "Because who you were? She didn't believe in herself. Didn't know her own strength. Now you do."
She rests her forehead against mine, fingers curling into my shirt. "You really mean that?"
"Every word."
Her lips find mine, soft and tentative at first. Then deeper, hungrier. I cup the back of her head, tilting her mouth the way I want it, and she melts into me with a small, shaky sound.
When I pull back, she's smiling. Really smiling.
"There she is," I murmur.
She laughs, watery but genuine, and I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands slide down her sides, feeling every curve, every change, and I make sure she knows how much I love all of it.