Epilogue
ARIA
I stand barefoot in a quiet courtyard, the cool pavement grounding me as a gentle breeze stirs in the cypress trees above. The morning sun casts a soft golden glow, wrapping everything in warmth,
This is our wedding day—again. But this time, it’s just for us. No alliances, no family politics, no audience. Just two people who chose each other.
Nicolas stands before me in a simple black suit, his dark hair brushing the collar of his jacket. He watches me with steady, unwavering eyes, and warmth creeps up my cheeks. He hasn’t looked away from me once.
My heart thuds as I grip the small bouquet of lilies, my favorite. The moment feels almost surreal, as if I might wake up any second. But then Nicolas takes a step closer, and how he looks at me tells me this is real. This is forever.
There’s no priest, no grand ceremony—just a quiet promise exchanged in the stillness of this courtyard. Our vows are ours alone, whispered between us, sealed not by tradition, but by the love we’ve fought for.
I clear my throat, swallowing past the nerves. This is it.
“I promise to choose you,” I say softly, my voice trembling but steady. “I promise to stand beside you, even when darkness threatens. I promise to hold onto the reasons we fell in love, not the reasons we almost fell apart.”
Nicolas’ eyes soften as he reaches for my shaking hands, steadying me with his warmth. “I promise to honor the strength you’ve shown me,” he replies. “I’ll protect you, but I’ll never forget that you can protect yourself too. I promise to believe in us, no matter how often we stumble.”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them away, determined to hold onto this moment. My gaze flickers to the small table beside us, where a silver ring rests. Nicolas picks it up, turning it over in his fingers before offering it to me.
“I once told you I wasn’t fit to wear this,” he murmurs. “That I wasn’t a king—just a man with scars and sins. But you reminded me that love can make us worthy. You reminded me that I deserve this kingdom… and you are the most important part of it.” He presses the ring into my palm, his fingers brushing mine. “So maybe you should wear it—because you’re why I see myself differently now.”
Emotion swells in my chest. I stare at the simple silver band, a symbol of everything we’ve fought for, and slide it onto my finger, my breath unsteady. “I’ll treasure this,” I whisper.
A hush settles between us, the moment stretching, infinite and sacred. The wind stirs the trees above, rustling the leaves like a quiet blessing. I feel the shift, the weight of something new and unbreakable between us.
Nicolas cups my face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear, and kisses me—soft at first, reverent, but deepening as I press closer, pouring everything I feel into him. Love. Relief, Forever.
We’re bound again— this time by choice .
Later, in our bedroom, I stand before the mahogany drawer, Nicolas beside me, his palm warm and steady against my lower back. My breath catches as I punch in the code, and with a soft click, the drawer pops open.
Inside, a black blindfold rests next to a neatly coiled curtain tieback. The sight sends a shiver down my spine. My fingers graze the silk, and memories flood back—the handcuffs he once used to show me how trust and surrender could blend into something deeper, something powerful. He had told me they taught him control—not just over me but over himself.
Nicolas steps closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You remember what I told you about the handcuffs,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth. “This is the same idea. It taught me focus, balance… how to master myself.”
He holds the curtain tie-back in his hand, the thick rope coiled between his fingers, the tassel brushing against his skin like something sacred. His grip is deliberate—controlled—but the way his thumb strokes the fibers betrays something more. A crack beneath all that dominance. Something fragile.
“When I was a boy,” his voice drops lower, rougher, like he’s reaching into a place he’s never let anyone see, “my father didn’t just punish me. He tamed me.” He exhales slowly, his fingers tightening around the rope. “He’d bind my hands with these ties until my struggle became my own undoing. The more I fought, the tighter they held.” His gaze lifts to hers, dark, unreadable. “Until I learned. Until I understood that the only way to survive was to surrender.”
The tie-back slides through his fingers, slow and deliberate. He lifts it between them, the weight of it no longer just rope but something far heavier—a scar made tangible—a past he never thought he’d share.
“I never let anyone touch this part of me,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “But with you… I want you to understand what this means.” A pause, heavy, intimate. “I’m not using this to restrain you. I’m giving it to you. My surrender. My past. My control.” His breath brushes against her lips as his voice deepens. “And now, you’re giving me yours.”
My heart thuds in my chest. There’s a quiet invitation in his gaze, a silent question lingering between us. Are you ready to see even more of me?
But before I can answer, before I can whisper yes —I remember. There’s something I need to give him too. A part of me. A part of us .
My fingers tremble as I reach into my bag, curling around the small plastic stick. The result window is still pink, glaring back at me with undeniable truth. My breath shudders.
I glance back at the open drawer, where the tie-back rests—a symbol of the past he’s given me. Something else catches my eye just beyond it, tucked away in the shadows. A secret yet to be revealed. I want to ask about it. But not now. Not yet. Swallowing hard, I place the test inside the drawer instead, letting it rest beside his past. A sign of a beautiful future, nestled against old scars.
He watches me, frowning slightly, confusion flickering in his sharp gaze as he follows my movements. Then his eyes land on it. On the truth .
His breath stills.
His gaze snaps to mine, wide, unreadable. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. “Are you…?”
Tears blur my vision, my throat tightening as I nod. No more running. No more hiding. “We’re having a baby.”
For a second, he just stares. Then his expression breaks into something rare—pure, unguarded joy. His hand lifts, hesitant at first, then gently presses against my stomach, though it’s far too early for anything to be there. The reverence in his face makes my chest flutter.
He gathers me into his arms, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I feel his wild and unsteady heart hammer through his shirt, and my own one races to match. We stand like that, wrapped in each other, the silent weight of everything shifting between us. Our world just changed again.
When he pulls back, his eyes still shine, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Let me show you how grateful I am. Let me remind you that you belong to me, and I to you.”
Heat coils low in my stomach. I trail my fingers up his chest, my lips curving as I bite down softly. “Yes. Show me.”
He guides me toward the bed, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. My skin hums with anticipation as he lays out the tieback and blindfold. A silent question lingers in his gaze, checking and waiting. I nod, my heart pounding, knowing this is more than just surrendering. It’s trust—a vow as potent as my wedding promise .
But then he hesitates, his eyes flicking to my still-flat stomach.
I reach up, cupping his jaw. “I promise,” I whisper, reading his unspoken worry. “Nothing will hurt the baby.”
He places the blindfold gently over my eyes. Darkness blooms, sharpening every other sense. I hear the steady rhythm of his breath, feel the warmth of his hands as he lifts my dress over my head, leaving me in just my panties. A shiver runs through me—not from fear, but from anticipation.
What will he do to me?
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