46. Ava
AVA
EPILOGUE 1
Several years later…
O ur beautiful baby girl was born with her father’s eyes and her mother’s strength. Her tiny face was a perfect blend of us, her mother’s mouth and chin, her father’s inquisitive gaze.
She came into this world through love—messy, tangled, imperfect love—and when I held her against my chest for the first time, her velvety skin warm and new, I understood with unshakable certainty that love didn’t compete for space in your heart, nor did it push aside what was already there. It didn’t carve out its own hollow to fill.
Love grew .
Ty’s palm rested on her impossibly tiny head, his touch so gentle it made my heart ache.
“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion .
“She’s ours,” I replied, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat.
We named her Ciara, a name that carried the weight of all the love, loss, and redemption that had brought her here.
That night, Ty climbed into the narrow hospital bed with me, his arms wrapping around me as if holding me was the only thing keeping him steady.
I leaned into his warmth, our daughter sleeping peacefully in her bassinet beside us. Her tiny breaths were the sweetest sound I’d ever heard, a soothing melody in the quiet room.
Exhaustion claimed me, happiness too overwhelming to keep my eyes open, though I fought to steal one last glance at her before sleep pulled me under.
When I woke, the faint gray light of dawn seeped through the blinds, and a soft, sweet fragrance filled the air. It was familiar, so achingly familiar that for a moment, I thought I might still be dreaming.
My gaze dropped to the bedside table, and there it was: a single Belladonna lily, its pale-pink petals as soft and velvety as my daughter’s skin.
Tears pricked my eyes as my chest tightened with an all-too-familiar ache.
Scáth.
I brushed a finger over the delicate bloom, my heart caught in a strange, bittersweet tangle of emotions.
I imagined him here in the quiet hours of the night, standing in the shadows, seeing what could never be his. How hard it must have been to witness Ty holding me in the way he had once dreamed, to see a baby that wasn’t his.
My happiness would always carry this shadow. A corner of my heart, dark and quiet, would always ache for the man whose only crime had been not being loved first.
And for that, I let a tear slip from my eyes—not just for him but with him.
The Belladonna lily was his message.
A silent declaration that he loved me still, loved every part of me, including the tiny life now entwined with ours. I lifted the flower to my nose, breathing in its sweet but deadly fragrance, and held it close as if it were him.
Carefully, I slipped from Ty’s embrace, his warmth still lingering on my skin, and I crossed the room to Ciara’s bassinet, my heart swelling at the sight of her.
The sunlight creeping through the blinds painted her tiny face in soft gold. She was so small, so perfect.
I traced a finger over her feathery hair, as dark as midnight, as dark as her father’s, and I prayed it would stay that way.
She stirred slightly as I reached to lift her, her tiny fist uncurling just enough for me to notice something new on her wrist. My breath hitched.
A bracelet.
Its chain was impossibly fine, as delicate as spun silk, glinting faintly in the muted morning light. From it dangled a single charm—a rabbit.
I twisted it gently, letting it catch the soft rays filtering through the blinds. It was simple in its beauty, but the weight it carried was immeasurable.
A promise. A silent vow.
My shadow would protect my daughter with the same unyielding fierceness that he’d once protected me .
He would watch over her, unseen but ever-present, as he had always done for me.
The thought filled my heart with a bittersweet ache—a comfort wrapped in longing.
“You’ll never be alone, little one,” I whispered to Ciara, my voice thick with emotion. “Never.”
I rocked her until the sun rose fully, casting its golden glow over everything—the flowers, the hospital room, and the bracelet on her tiny wrist. And in that light, I felt the weight of all my love, my sorrow, and my gratitude.
Ciaran might have been gone, but he would never truly leave us. Not while his love lingered in every shadow, in every whispered breeze, and now, in the tiny charm that would forever remind me of the boy who loved me in his own, unforgettable way.
As I swayed gently in the dim light, rocking my daughter and listening to her soft, even breaths, I couldn’t help but imagine her running through the meadow outside our home, her laughter carrying over the sound of the sea.
I would watch her from the window at my writing desk, smiling as she darted away from her father chasing her among the wildflowers, free and joyful.
And, perhaps, from time to time… I’d see a shadow among the trees.