EPILOGUE
Ariana
Ionce said I had a habit of ruining anything good in my life.
Maybe it was true then, but not anymore. Now, everything feels whole.
I’m no longer afraid to love. I’m not afraid to hope.
And I’m not afraid to give every part of myself to him.
Hannah used to call me a good girl. Too good for the real world, she’d say. But life changed me. I let anger take root and let hatred burn through me until it shaped the choices I made.
Now I know I’m a different kind of good girl—fearless, strong, and able to love with everything I have. That love is Grayson’s, as it has always been—his and only his. Being with him again feels like my heart has finally come home.
The years passed quietly, with days that tested us as much as they blessed us, and within that rhythm, Grayson and I built a life together. We learned, we grew, and we became proud of what we had made side by side.
We are married now. We bought a small but lovely house on the outskirts of town, just as we had dreamed.
From our back porch, we can see the mountains rising behind us, and in front stretches a wide field of grass where our children can run.
The air is fresh, the nearby stream carries the sound of water through the evenings, and every corner of it carries our mark. It became a home.
Marriage did not change us with fireworks or grand declarations.
It settled into us like breath—quiet and certain—as if fate had always been leading us here.
I still remember the day we exchanged rings, a small gathering with only the people who mattered most. There were no extravagant displays, no need to prove anything to anyone.
It was simple, and it was us. The way Grayson looked at me in that moment spoke louder than any vow.
His hand was gentle as he slid the band onto my finger, and his eyes were full of gratitude and love, overflowing with emotion and carrying a promise that belonged to no one else but us.
It was the happiest day of my life, one I knew I would carry in my heart forever.
What made it even more unforgettable was seeing my dad step toward Grayson.
For a moment, I thought he would simply shake his hand the way he always did, but instead, he pulled him into a long, firm hug.
My breath caught at the sight, tears stinging my eyes before he even spoke.
“I know you love my daughter very much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, the words breaking through every restraint. “I’m trusting her to you again. Please take good care of her.”
Hearing those words, watching Grayson hold on to him with respect and gratitude, melted through every wall I had left. It was the dearest blessing my father could have offered, and for Grayson and me, it meant the world.
His parents and Taylor did not come to our wedding.
Grayson didn’t invite them either. They had moved away, selling off their properties, which should have left them comfortable, even wealthy.
But because they refused to scale back the extravagant lifestyle they clung to, Grayson said it was only a matter of time before they came crawling back, asking him for money.
He was determined to refuse them, and I believed him. Still, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help wondering how we could stand by and watch them starve or become homeless if it ever came to that.
From what I’d heard, Taylor still hadn’t managed to find a job. Her name had become infamous as the girl who faked her diploma, and she had Demi to thank for that.
Meanwhile, my business continued to grow. Sandra Hale finally agreed to give me a 20% share after seeing how much I had proven myself. Ana?s was still thriving under Allen’s management, and I had reached a level of success I had never even dared to imagine.
Grayson was thriving, too. He had finally found his calling and was now the proud owner of a foodservice distribution company. His business supplied not only my chain of restaurants but also many others across town and in the surrounding areas.
Our lives were perfect—everything about them.
Even now, with the mood swings and emotions that come with being six months pregnant, not a single day passes without me feeling grateful.
“Ari,” I heard Grayson’s voice behind me, and I turned from watching the green mountain that rose behind our house. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He came toward me in dark jeans and that white T-shirt I loved on him, barefoot—effortless in a way that always got to me.
When he reached me, his arms slid around my waist, pulling me close until my belly pressed against him.
His gaze softened, his eyes tracing over my face with quiet adoration that made me forget the rest of the world.
“What?” I asked, flustered.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured. “So lovely.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Ever since I got pregnant with this baby, his words seemed to undo me more easily. He said things like that all the time, and still, every single time, I blushed.
“There…” he whispered with a soft chuckle. “There’s the blush I love so much. I really hope you won’t lose it when you’re not pregnant anymore.”
“Oh no, please don’t say that,” I blurted, horrified. It was true—I wasn’t just easy to blush, I was easy to cry too. At everything. Movies, love songs, even that documentary about whales that had no reason to make me sob the way they did.
He laughed. “Yes, and I’m going to pray for it.”
I frowned at him, which only made his laughter grow louder.
His expression softened again as he leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss over my lips. “Love you, baby,” he whispered.
“Love you too, babe,” I replied with a grin.
He held my gaze, his voice low and tender. “Every day, I feel happy. You make me happy.”
“You’re my happiness, too, Gray. Always.”
He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face before he added softly, “Just… remember that, okay? That I’m your happiness.”
My eyes narrowed, suspicion sparking instantly. “What did you do?”
“When you walk into the house, just remember that I’m your happiness. Always.”
“Gray…”
He cringed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have let our son turn the kitchen into a disaster zone.”
I gasped loudly and rushed into the house.
There, on the kitchen floor, sat our two-year-old son, Riley, right in front of the bowl of cake batter I had planned to bring to Ana?s that day.
It had been a new recipe I was experimenting with, but now it was everywhere except where it should have been.
Riley was covered from head to toe, his little hands sticky, his cheeks smeared, giggling with pure delight the moment he spotted me.
“Grayson!” I called.
His voice came from behind me, low and guilty. “Yeah… about that.”
“How come—” I started, then let out a long sigh. The sight was too much, and instead of finishing my scolding, I burst out laughing. Riley laughed with me, his little, belly-shaking giggles filling the room until he tipped his head back in pure joy.
“My God, Grayson,” I said through my laughter. “You’re the one cleaning this up. This is your fault.”
“I know…” he groaned.
“And we need to get ready for work, or we’re going to be late!”
Another sigh. “I know.”
“I’ve got to get ready now,” I told him. “Don’t make us late, Daddy.”
He grinned, then gave me a mock scowl. “Now is not the time to ‘Daddy’ me. Save that for tonight.”
I snorted and left him to the mess, heading into the bedroom to shower and dress. When I came out a little later and walked into Riley’s room, I found Grayson wrestling with our boy, who was kicking and giggling as Grayson tried to get his clothes on.
“Let me,” I said with a smile. “Go get ready.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before heading into our bedroom to finish getting dressed. He had already showered earlier. We usually took turns so that one of us was always with Riley.
Only fifteen minutes later, we were finally in the car, on our way to work. On days when Riley didn’t go to preschool, he stayed with either Grayson or me at the office. We had already furnished both our spaces with his toys and even a toddler bed in case he wanted to nap.
It was a luxury not every working parent had, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it. We never had to miss a moment of our son’s growth. We had become a couple who truly had it all—a thriving career, a marriage filled with love and passion, and the blessing of being present for our child.
As always, Grayson dropped me off first, walking us inside. I held Riley’s small hand, Grayson steady at my side, and our baby girl safe within me. In that moment, I felt it with absolute certainty—my life was complete.
It wasn’t perfect because life was free of flaws or struggles.
It was perfect because we had built it together, piece by piece, hand in hand, through every hardship and every joy.
Grayson once told me he wanted to love me the way I was meant to be loved, and now I knew he did, completely, without a shred of doubt.
And together, we had found our forever.