Epilogue
(SIX months later: Bora Bora)
T he wind blew gracefully, sweeping through the trees like a lullaby, while birds sang in perfect harmony. The sun kissed the island with golden warmth, and the waves danced as if the ocean itself was rejoicing. This—this was what Heaven on Earth looked like.
Sevyn stood barefoot on the balcony, her curly hair flowing freely in the breeze, a soft smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in months, she felt peace.
The last six months had tested every fiber of her being.
After the hospital, she couldn’t walk. Couldn’t speak.
There were nights when she didn’t know if she—or the life growing inside her—was going to survive.
The doctors were unsure. Her injuries from Braxton had been severe, and the pregnancy was considered high-risk.
Hearing she might not carry full-term shattered her.
Because long before she was a therapist, Sevyn was a woman who dreamed of being a mother. And now, carrying the child of the man she loved more than life—it felt like hope. And that hope slipping through her fingers had nearly drowned her.
She spiraled. Fell into a darkness that tried to swallow her whole. But God came through.
Slowly, piece by piece, she began to heal—mentally, emotionally, physically. And so did her baby. Each appointment brought better news, and now, her body was strong. Her baby was thriving. And her heart?
Full.
As she gazed over the endless turquoise of Bora Bora, gratitude filled her chest. She was whole again. Alive. Loved.
So lost in the beauty before her, she jumped when warm, strong arms wrapped around her waist. But the moment his touch met her skin, her body melted into his.
Those hands were her anchor. Her home.
“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, voice low and tender, sending a chill down her spine.
Only he could make her feel like this.
And she smiled, knowing that no matter what they endured... they were h ere. Together. And that was everything.
Hassan stood behind Sevyn, arms wrapped gently around her as he lifted the weight of her belly, easing the pressure off her back.
She sighed in relief, eyes fluttering shut, her body instantly relaxing into him.
He loved moments like this—holding his baby, watching the tension melt from Sevyn’s face. It did something to his soul.
Back when he was clawing through hell to get her back, he’d convinced himself that letting her go would be the only way to protect her.
He believed the life he lived would eventually destroy hers.
Everyone around him told him he’d regret it, but he didn’t listen.
Not until the doctor walked in with the words “she’s pregnant.
” Not until Dorian stepped out that hospital room and said Sevyn was asking for him. That was the moment it all changed.
He couldn’t leave her—not when she was carrying his child. Not when she was his heart.
These past six months hadn’t been easy. Sevyn’s road to recovery was brutal—physically, mentally, emotionally—and Hassan bore every scar of it with her.
He held her through every silent cry, every day she couldn’t walk, every moment she wanted to give up.
And on top of it all, he’d lost his grandmother.
There was no funeral for Helen. Their family had always been small—it was just him, Harper, and Madea. Sevyn was still fighting in the hospital, so it had fallen on Hassan and Harper to carry that grief alone. Roman, Jules, and Von stood with them, but nothing could fill that void.
Instead of a funeral, they cremated her. Split her ashes into three necklaces. One for Harper. One for Roman—because Helen had been his mother too. And one for Hassan.
Harper broke when Helen died. Hassan? He didn’t. Or at least, that’s what he showed. He stayed strong, silent, focused on Sevyn and the baby. But there were nights when he stared out the window, replaying memories, hearing her voice in the wind. He just never let himself sit in that grief for long.
Sevyn, of course, saw through all of it.
Even from a hospital bed, bruised and healing, she reached for him.
Coaxed him to talk. To feel. She held his pain like it was her own, and Hassan didn’t have the words to thank her for that.
She’d always seen him—past the armor, past the cold—and chose to love what she found anyway.
Now, standing on the balcony of their private villa in Bora Bora, the ocean stretched endlessly before them, Hassan held the woman who saved him and the life they created together. And for once, he didn’t feel broken.
He felt whole. He felt blessed.
Sevyn turned in his arms, her eyes drinking him in—shirtless, toned , and wearing nothing but a pair of grey shorts that hung low on his waist. He was the finest thing walking, and all hers.
"What you thinking about?" she asked softly, fingers gliding down his face. He melted into her touch like always. She didn’t need to look too hard to know his mind was deep in thought.
"How lucky I am to have you," he said with a soft smile, making her chuckle.
"And to think you were about to dip out on me." Her eyes rolled playfully, though the memory still stung.
Harper, big mouth and all, hadn’t wasted a second telling her everything—the second Sevyn was stable, she spilled. Told her how Hassan planned to walk away, convinced she’d be better off without him.
That look in her eyes when she found out… it gutted him. "Would’ve been my biggest fucking regret too," Hassan said, pulling her closer and brushing a gentle kiss on her lips.
He loved the softness of her—her mouth, her skin, her warmth. He couldn’t get enough. Sevyn was finally healed. The scars Braxton left were fading, but her beauty hadn’t. Even if they never faded, he’d still look at her like she was everything. Because she was.
"It would've been some good child support though," Sevyn said suddenly, biting her lip to hold back a laugh.
Hassan gave her the most unimpressed stare, making her cackle in his arms.
"I’m just playing, baby," she said sweetly, kissing him before he could respond.
He deepened the kiss, stealing a moan from her lips before she pulled back breathless. They were supposed to be getting ready for dinner, and if they kept going like this, the reservation would become another missed one.
Ever since they touched down on the island, they’d been making up for lost time—every room, every night, every inch. Between her recovery and his new partnership with Carlos and Vittorio, they hadn’t had time to just be.
Now, they had nothing but time—and they were spending all of it wrapped in each other.
"Why you stop?" Hassan asked, mugging her like she’d just ruined his whole night.
Sevyn laughed, trying to move around him. "Because we need to get ready. Dinner’s in an hour, and both of us take forever."
"You take forever doing makeup you don’t even need," he grumbled, grabbing her waist and pulling her right back into him. "I just want my dessert before dinner."
He licked his lips, eyes locked on her like he was starving. A shiver ran do wn her spine, but she held her ground.
"And that pussy?" He leaned in, voice low. "Sweeter. Juicier. Thanks to my baby. I just want a taste."
Sevyn burst into laughter, smacking his chest. That man had no filter—and zero self-control when it came to her.
"Dessert comes after dinner. Now come on before the driver gets here."
Hassan pulled her back again, this time softer, a kiss brushing her lips. "I got something for you first."
She smiled. "That what you been hiding behind your back?"
He grinned and finally revealed the small black box. "Wanted to give you this before dinner."
She took it with curiosity, opening it slowly—then frowned in confusion.
"Keys? Babe, we already live together." She laughed. He smirked.
True. Sevyn had moved into his house the minute she was discharged from the hospital. He wasn’t about to let her go back to living alone, not pregnant, not after everything they’d been through.
Her penthouse had security, but he was her security. He needed his woman and their son under the same roof.
Yup. A boy.
Sevyn had wanted a gender reveal. Hassan, on the other hand, forced the doctor to tell him the second they were cleared. He tried to keep it a secret… until he started coming home with baby Jordans and little boy onesies every other day.
She figured it out fast. Still, she insisted on doing the reveal for the rest of the family when they got back from the trip—and he agreed.
But this… this wasn’t keys to their place.
Hassan had something bigger in mind. And Sevyn was about to find out.
"Not just any keys." Hassan grinned wide, proud. "Those are the keys to your new clinic."
Sevyn blinked, stunned. "What?! Really?!"
She squealed and started bouncing on her toes with excitement. "Damn, baby," Hassan chuckled, grabbing her gently, "you gon’ give my lil nigga motion sickness in there."
She playfully punched his chest, still grinning, and stopped bouncing as he laughed.
"I know you said you wanted to wait," he continued, voice dropping tender, "wait for the perfect time, perfect place, perfect design..."
He mocked her softly, imitating her voice, making her giggle through her tears.
"But baby... there’s no more perfect time than now. You survived hell and ca me out stronger, like you always do. I know you’ve been nervous about going back to work, about building your dream while becoming a mom. So I took care of it."
Her hands went to her mouth as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. Sevyn never used to cry like this—Harper always had that job—but lately, between the pregnancy and what she survived, everything hit deeper.
"I hired the best interior designer, the coldest contractor. It’s gonna look exactly how you want it."
She was grateful she hadn’t done her makeup yet, because there would’ve been nothing left of it.