Epilogue
ASHA
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and red wine. It's a warmth that settles into your bones and makes you forget there's a world beyond these walls. I lean against the counter, glass in hand, watching London's daughter, Grace, toddle between chair legs. Laney tries and fails to coax her back.
Across the room, my father holds Avi against his shoulder, one large hand cradling my son's tiny head. Son. I still can't believe I'm a mom. He was definitely an unexpected surprise, but one I couldn't imagine living without.
"She's got London's stubbornness," Laney says, exasperated but smiling.
"And your tendency to ignore sound advice," London adds, earning him a playful swat.
Trigger catches my eye from where he stands near the sink with Rohan.
He doesn't smile, not exactly, but something shifts in his expression—a quiet recognition that still makes my chest tighten. He’s always been able to unravel me with one look.
Those dark eyes penetrated through my armor.
Everyone else sees a puzzle—a guarded girl with trust issues and a complicated past. But Trigger solved that puzzle before I ever said "I do.
" He pieced together who I am underneath all the protection.
He saw the parts of me I thought were too damaged or difficult to love and married me anyway.
"You're too quiet," Dar says, appearing at my elbow with the kind of knowing look only aunts can manage. "It's your birthday. You're supposed to be the loudest one here."
Rohan laughs. "When has Asha ever been loud?"
"Fair point," Dar concedes, refilling my glass without asking. "But still. What's happening in that head of yours?"
Everything. Nothing. How do you explain that your life has become unrecognizable in the best possible way?
That the man you agreed to marry out of desperation, a deal with an enemy to save land you couldn't afford to lose, has somehow become the person who saved you instead?
That you're someone's mother now, that you created this perfect little human who's currently drooling on your father's shoulder?
"Just thinking," I say, taking a sip. The wine is good.
My father has exquisite taste in wine. Among other things, I'm still learning about him.
Ever since he came clean about my mother's sickness, I feel like we're getting to know each other on a deeper level.
He was my best friend and my whole world for so long.
Then I started seeing cracks in his facade and realized I was only seeing the man he allowed me to see. Now, he lets me in.
"Dangerous," Trigger says, moving closer. His hand finds the small of my back in a casual, easy way, like he's always belonged there.
Grace shrieks with delight, having discovered a wooden spoon on the floor.
The sound cuts through the conversation, and Avi startles against my father’s shoulder.
I watch his hand come up instinctively to cradle his head, and his lips move with words too quiet to hear.
Around me, the kitchen fills with laughter and life.
Laney is reaching for Grace, Rohan is refilling wine glasses, and Dar is gesturing wildly as she tells some story.
Family, old and new, weaving around each other like they've always belonged in the same room.
This is what I never let myself imagine. Life. Noise. People who stayed.
A year ago, I believed the worst about my father.
I carried that belief like a stone in my pocket, heavy and cold.
Then came his secret. The truth threatened to change everything and rewrite my entire story.
The way I saw it, I had two choices: chase it down, demand answers, and let it consume me. Or let it go.
I chose the moment. Chose this. The warmth, the laughter, the spoon-wielding toddler. The baby sleeping on his grandfather's shoulder. The husband whose love I was too blind to see for far too long.
"Here," my father says, crossing to me. "He wants his mama."
I set down my glass and take Avi. The weight of him in my arms is still something I can't believe is real. Three months old, and already changing everything I thought my life would be.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Trigger's voice is low, meant just for me. His hand moves from my back to rest gently on Avi's head.
I turn to him and really look at him. He's the man who loved me even when I couldn't understand it. The man who gave me this child, this life, this chance at something I didn't know I was allowed to want.
"Yeah," I say, and mean it. "I really am."
Because each day is a gift. Each moment in this kitchen is a gift.
I'm surrounded by family who traveled across oceans, and friends who've become family.
My husband started as an enemy and ended as everything.
It's all a gift. I've spent too much of my life looking back, cataloging losses, and bracing for the next blow. Not anymore.
"Happy birthday, Asha," my father says, raising his glass. The others follow suit.
I can't raise mine because Avi's in my arms, but I nod, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. "Thank you," I manage. "For being here. For all of it."
Trigger's arm comes around both of us, and I lean into him, let myself be held. Let myself be happy without waiting for it to crumble.
Grace throws the spoon.
Laney groans.
Dar laughs so hard her bangles jangle.
And I—I live through it, every perfect, chaotic second.
"Okay, now that the toast is out of the way. Let's eat," Dar says, carrying a dish from the stove to the table in the other room. My father offers to take it, but she swats him away. "I have it. Let me serve you. Please."
This isn't the first time Dar and my father met. They met months ago when Dar and Rohan came over with the first bull delivery. To say the meeting was tense would be an understatement. My father had a lot of things to work through, and to this day, I’m certain I still don't know the half of it.
What I do know is he's trying to put past grievances aside.
He's trying to look ahead, not behind, and I know a lot of that has to do with me.
If I can push through and choose not to be defined by what might be, he can choose the same path. Our pasts don't have to define us.
"Well, if you decide to surprise me next year for my birthday, I'll be able to host all of you at my own kitchen table," I say, taking a seat at the long dining table in my father's dining room.
"Now that Dad isn't blocking roads, shutting off power, and throwing out our permits, we can build a house. " I smile.
"I never threw out permits," he objects, his lips pulling to one corner.
I roll my eyes. "Sorry, threatened to bury them under mysterious zoning violations is a better choice of words."
Trigger coughs into his wine glass. It sounds suspiciously like a laugh.
"Or was it the sudden need for environmental impact studies?" I add sweetly. "On land that's been farmed for a hundred years?"
My father's jaw tightens, but there's amusement in his eyes. "Well," he clears his throat, easily swatting off my comment like it's a fly. "Before you start tossing money at an architect, maybe you should open my gift." He passes an envelope down the table.
I take the envelope and hold it in my hands curiously, measuring his words against the piece of paper in front of me.
Then I give Avi to Trigger beside me. When I tear open the envelope, I find a deed.
At the bottom, his signature is sprawled across the page.
I swallow, my throat thick with emotion as tears well in my eyes.
"You're giving me Mom's house?" I say, my voice small, still unbelieving that what I'm holding is real.
The table goes quiet. Even Grace stops fussing.
My father shifts in his seat, but there's no uncertainty in his expression. He looks... decided. Like this has been the plan all along. "Your mom always wanted you to have this. I may have been her husband, but you were her daughter. This land belongs to you."
I look up at him, my vision blurring. "But what about the horses and—"
He raises his hand, stopping me. "We can discuss all that, but we both know our home in Louisville can sustain the business. Don't worry about me. You're starting your family. It's only right you do it here, in the same place you always dreamed you would."
The breath leaves my lungs. The same place you always dreamed you would. He remembered.
My fingers trace the edge of the deed, and I can barely see it through the tears. This was his plan all along. That’s why he was being difficult. "I don't... I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," my father says quietly.
"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you."
Dar stays quiet across the table, but I can see her blinking rapidly, her jaw tight with emotion.
Trigger's hand is on my back now, steady and warm, and I can hear Avi's quickened breaths on his chest as he settles against him.
A house. A home. The place where my mother lived, where she held me, where she must have stood at the windows and imagined my future.
And now I get to build that future with Trigger and Avi, and whatever comes next.
Laney's crying now, and London hands her a napkin, shaking his head fondly at both of us.
"That's... that's quite the gift," Rohan says, breaking the heavy silence, his voice careful.
"Quite the gift indeed," Dar says, her bangles clinking as she clasps her hands together. "But I do have something special I'd like to give you as well."
I laugh, wiping at my eyes. "I don't think I need any more property."
"Well, that's good since I don't have any to give away." Dar smiles. "My gift is for you, but it's also for Trigger." She looks around the table, her expression softening. "In fact, I'd say it's probably for everyone at this table, since I can see these are the people who mean the world to you."
Almost everyone, I think to myself. Sydney's not here.