Epilogue - Izzy
The studio had become my sanctuary.
Not because it was beautiful—though it was. Raze had made sure of that. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, letting the afternoon light spill across the space in slow, golden sheets. Outside, the trees shifted with the breeze, leaves catching the sun like broken glass.
But it was more than that.
This room was proof that my life had changed.
For years, I had lived in borrowed spaces. Temporary rooms. Places that never quite felt like mine. I had learned to measure safety by exits and distance. By how quickly I could disappear if I needed to.
Now I had this.
A studio. A home. A man who had burned down everything that threatened me… and then built me something stronger in its place.
I reached for one of the brushes on the table, running my fingers along the worn handle like I needed to remind myself it was real.
Everything here was real.
The easel. The paints lined in careful rows.
The long wooden table Raze had insisted on buying, even though it probably cost more than my first car.
My things.
A slow breath left me.
Peace still felt unfamiliar. Like something fragile I wasn’t supposed to hold for too long. Sometimes I caught myself waiting for it to shatter. A phone call. A knock. Something coming to take it all back.
But nothing ever came.
Just birds. Wind in the trees. The faint hum of the pool filter outside.
And me—standing here, not surviving. Living.
My gaze drifted to the shelf beside the easel.
To the small pair of shoes resting there.
They were ridiculously tiny.
Soft leather. Pale cream. No bigger than the length of my palm.
I hadn’t meant to buy them.
I hadn’t even meant to stop in that shop in Florence. But something had pulled me in, and once I’d seen them—once that thought had taken hold—it hadn’t let go.
The world had shifted in that moment.
Wordlessly. Permanently.
My chest tightened as I stared at them now.
It had been two weeks. Two weeks of carrying this alone and not knowing how to tell him.
Because loving a man like Raze meant understanding the weight he carried. The things he had lost. The life he had built in the ruins of it.
And the thought of him rejecting this—rejecting us—I couldn’t breathe through it.
The door creaked softly behind me.
“Izzy?”
My heart jumped into my throat.
I turned too quickly, my hand catching the edge of the stool beside me.
“You startled me.”
Raze stepped into the room, already watching me too closely. Too carefully.
He noticed everything.
“You’ve been in here all day,” he said.
“I was working.”
His gaze flicked to the canvas behind me—half-finished, abandoned hours ago.
“I came to check on you.”
There it was.
I forced a small shrug. “Artists require solitude.”
He didn’t smile.
Which meant he didn’t believe me.
“I feel like you’ve been a little… off.”
He moved further inside, his presence filling the room without effort. His eyes swept the space once—slow, deliberate—and then stopped.
On the shelf. On the shoes.
Everything inside me locked.
He walked toward them, picking them up without a word. Turning them over in his hands like he was trying to understand what they meant.
Then he looked at me.
“Izzy.”
My throat closed.
“What are these?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“You bought baby shoes.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. My vision blurred instantly.
“Oh God,” I whispered, dragging my hands over my face. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
He crossed the room in two strides, catching my wrists before I could hide.
“Izzy,” he said, voice lower now. “Talk to me.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
I swallowed hard. And forced the words out before I could lose them.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Complete and absolute silence.
For a second—just one—his expression was completely unreadable. And the fear I had been holding back cracked wide open.
“I know this isn’t what you expected,” I rushed out, voice shaking. “And your life is complicated and violent and maybe you don’t want this and—”
His hands tightened around mine.
“Izzy. Stop.”
I stopped.
He stared at me like the ground had shifted beneath him.
“Say that again.”
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words settled between us. Real. Permanent.
Raze exhaled slowly. And then—unexpectedly—he laughed.
He wasn’t loud or mocking. It was just a quiet, disbelieving sound, like something inside him had broken open.
“You thought I’d be angry?”
Tears slid down my cheeks.
“I didn’t know how you’d react.”
His hand came up, brushing my tears away.
“You thought I wouldn’t want this.”
“I didn’t know if you would.”
For a moment, he just looked at me. Then his other hand moved. Down. Resting carefully against my stomach.
Like it mattered. Like I mattered.
“You’re carrying my child,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
His gaze lifted to mine.
And whatever I had been afraid of disappeared.
Because Raze looked—happy. Deliriously happy.
“Izzy.”
He pulled me into him, his arms closing around me with a force that stole my breath.
“I have spent half my life destroying things,” he murmured into my hair.
I held onto him just as tightly.
“And now,” he said, voice rougher, “I get to build something.”
Something inside my chest loosened.
“You’re not upset?” I asked softly.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
“Upset?”
“Yes.”
Raze shook his head slowly.
“You just gave me the one thing I never thought I’d have again.”
Emotion hit me all at once. Warmer this time. Steadier.
His hand returned to my stomach, protective without thinking.
“I’m going to be a father.”
“You are.”
A slow smile broke across his face. Honest and unrestrained.
And suddenly the future didn’t feel like something waiting to hurt me. It felt… open. Endless. Ours.
He leaned down and kissed me, softer than I’d ever known him to be.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Our child.”
Outside, the wind moved through the trees again.
The world felt steady. Whole.
And standing there in the light, in the space he had built for me, in the life we had carved out of everything that tried to break us—I understood something I hadn’t been able to name before.
I hadn’t just survived my past.
I had outgrown it.
And now the rest of my life was waiting.
Right here.
With him.