Epilogue
LYSANDRA
“Ewww,” Dorian drew out.
“Mom, can we please skip this part?” Larissa asked with her nose scrunched.
“You guys act like it’s such a bad thing,” I retorted.
“It’s gross!” Dorian squealed. He frowned as he gagged exaggeratedly.
Ezra sat down in his armchair beside me, handing me a cup of hot chocolate. “And just for that, you have lost your hot cocoa privileges. I might as well eat the pan dulce that your mom made for you, little ones.”
“No!” Dorian screeched.
“Come on, Dad,” Larissa begged.
A chuckle slipped from my lips. Ezra was great at provoking our kids for no reason.
The hundreds of books that I’d collected throughout the years were perfectly stacked in the library that Ezra built for me.
The fireplace crackled, the scent from the vanilla candles floated around, and our kids jumped in place as they realized they wouldn’t be drinking hot chocolate tonight.
We had decided to call the kids from their rooms to listen to this story as punishment for their behavior.
It took longer than we had thought; it was almost time for them to head to bed.
Dorian and Larissa. My two greatest blessings. They were turning thirteen, one of the most difficult ages a person could live through.
Ezra and I had decided to tell them our story, not so we could relive the past, but to teach them how communication was the key to a good life. We made mistakes—big ones—because we were too prideful and too immature. Five years of our lives had been wasted.
Violence, isolation, and revenge were not the answers to anger. They never were, and they would never be.
“Do you understand the point of the story?” Ezra questioned, eyeing our firstborn son.
“Honestly, no. All I got from this was how we got our names and how you and Mom met.” Dorian shrugged.
I sighed, putting my hands on my temple. “Dorian, Larissa. We want you both to understand that whenever disagreements come along, it is unacceptable to use your words to hurt one another. Your father and I do not want to see you fighting or that Dorian is giving the silent treatment.”
“But, Mom, it’s not fair. Larissa goes into my room and grabs my things.”
“I do not,” Larissa defended herself, crossing her arms.
Before I knew it, Dorian and Larissa had begun to bicker. Ezra let out a breath as he fixed his glasses.
“Ninos, por favor,” I said.
Larissa flicked Dorian’s nose, which ignited a fiery spark in his honey gaze.
“Enough!” Ezra said sharply. The kids’ eyes widened; they calmed down.
“Larissa, you are not allowed into Dorian’s room.
You have your own. Dorian, we did not raise you to be violent and you will not practice such things in our home.
I don’t care how mad you are; it is unacceptable. Do you understand?”
Dorian and Larissa glanced at one another before lowering their eyes. They were left speechless under the scrutiny of their father.
“Understood?” Ezra questioned sternly.
“Understood,” they said.
“Now, it’s past bedtime. Time to go to sleep.”
I watched as Dorian and Larissa huffed in unison, gathered themselves and headed upstairs.
By the way they had reacted with such similarity, it was more than noticeable that they were twins.
Although they were fraternal. Dorian inherited my brown curly hair, hazel eyes, and beige skin.
Larissa bared Ezra’s ocean blue eyes, raven-black strands, and pale complexion.
They were a clear demonstration of our love.
We’d named Dorian after one of our favorite books.
A book that sparked conversation at the beginning of our love story.
And Larissa, well, she got her name from someone special.
Someone I owed a great debt to. One of the few people who ripped me from the hell that used to be my life.
I had never forgotten about her. To this day, I prayed that she was happy wherever she was.
Sometimes, I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I had never applied to Blackthorn House Academy and Lachlan Prep. I couldn’t help but try to imagine the course of events that would have followed if I had never come to Scotland. “What’s on your mind, love?”
“Just thinking,” I replied.
“What about?”
I smiled. “Us.”
Ezra stood, extending a hand toward me. I took his firm grip and pushed myself to my feet. His arms wrapped around my waist as I wrapped mine around his neck.
“Dance with me,” he whispered.
I gave him a slight nod, then I rested my head on his chest, holding onto him as he held onto me. This was my home, his comfort. We swayed in front of the burning embers swirling within the hearth. In his embrace, I could breathe. The terrors in my mind were quieted when he hugged me.
“What about us?”
“As we told the story to the kids, I couldn’t help but realize that everything we lived seemed to have happened in a specific order. As if each moment occurred for a reason.”
It took my breath away just how much everything was perfectly imperfect in the story of us.
His grin captivated me. Each day, it was like I was falling in love with him all over again.
“Everything happens for a reason. Whether it’s good or bad, heavy or light, every minute that we live, we are living the consequences from yesterday’s decisions.
Whether it be from the choices that people around us made, or our own decisions.
But it is up to us to decide what we will do with the fruits of the past, and how to sow seeds for our future. ”
“I thought I was the poetic one,” I chuckled, quirking up a brow.
“We’ve been married for fifteen years, you think I’m not going to learn my wife’s language?” Ezra asked.
Fifteen years of a blessed marriage. Who would’ve thought? Certainly not myself.
“Now, I do have a complaint about your point of view of the story.”
I quirked up a brow as we moved side-to-side, never letting each other go. “How come I’m just finding out that you got my letter?”
I laughed. “That’s what bothered you?”
“You got my letter, and you didn’t tell me. I spent five years thinking you didn’t know how I felt about you, and how deeply I regretted what I had done, of course I’m offended!” Although he’d been exclaiming, he was smiling. I continued to cackle at his bafflement.
Ah, yes. I still had that letter. Hidden in one of the many editions I had of The Picture of Dorian Gray.
I hadn’t told Camille that I hid it, that I held onto it after all those years.
Although I was certain she wouldn’t have judged me for holding onto a piece of Ezra for those five long years.
It was the letter I read constantly whenever I felt lonely.
Especially when I got engaged to Aldair.
That was the most lonely I had ever felt in my entire life. Not even when I was in California had I felt like that. Perhaps because my heart knew that I would be binding my life to the wrong person. Someone who wasn’t Ezra.
That chapter with Aldair did not end well with me, but he continued to be a successful orthopedic doctor after we broke up.
I never saw him again after running out of his loft from finding out that he’d been disloyal to me with other women.
I wished the best for him even if we hadn’t ended our relationship in the best of terms.
There was no reason to feel vengeful; my wish list was complete. I was a fulfilled woman.
“I did. It was a very beautiful letter.”
“I meant what I said on there. Every word—”
Sometimes speaking of the old memories reopened wounds that had already scarred.
Usually, dwelling in the past had been an issue for me when speaking of the time we spent apart, but not this time.
I didn’t want him to fall down a rabbit hole of guilt and remorse.
“It’s in the past. We are living the future now,” I hushed.
Softly, I passed my fingers through his hair. Then, I pushed his glasses up. His body shook with each laugh, it became a habit of always teasing him for having his frames so close to the tip of his nose.
The darkness we endured as children shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And even then, we still had made it to the other side.
Ezra’s piercing gaze examined my features. As if he were taking me in for the first time again. As if he couldn’t believe that this was his life. He didn’t have to say it out loud because it was the same thought that crossed my mind.
“I will forever be grateful you didn’t forget me.”
“I could never forget you. Not in this lifetime, and not in the next one.”