Epilogue 2 Adrianna
A year later.
I never thought happiness could feel quiet.
Warm.
Steady.
Like a heartbeat I can trust.
But here I am—six months pregnant, wearing a flowing navy dress that forgives every curve and new swell of my body, sitting in the front row of a small, intimate TV studio where my husband is about to perform his first live unplugged set in years.
And I’m glowing.
Literally glowing, if Bella is to be believed.
“You look so pretty, Aunt Ad,” she whispers beside me, scooting close.
She’s practically vibrating with excitement, her new blue streaks tucked behind her ears and her Nathan Thorn VIP pass hanging from a lanyard like she’s staff.
I smooth my hand over her hair. “Thank you, sweetheart. Are you excited?”
She nods so vigorously I’m surprised her head stays on. “Are you kidding? This is so cool! And the baby is kicking again, right? That means they like the energy in here.”
I laugh softly because yes—the tiny flutter low in my belly is unmistakable.
“They love their daddy’s music,” I say.
Bella beams. “Just like us.”
The studio lights dim.
The audience quiets.
And my heart expands to fill the entire room when Nathan steps into the soft amber glow of the stage.
God, he looks good.
Jeans, boots, a charcoal Henley that hugs his arms in the most sinful way, and his guitar slung low like it chose him. His hair is a little longer now, his scruff a little thicker, his smile—still the same one that ruined me at seventeen.
Only now it’s mine.
All mine.
He finds me instantly, like there’s no one else in the room. His eyes soften. Warm. Full.
Love, unfiltered.
Bella grabs my arm. “He’s looking at you!” she stage-whispers.
“I know,” I breathe.
Because he always looks at me like that.
He sits on the stool, adjusts the mic, and taps the guitar lightly. The soundboard tech gives him the thumbs-up.
Then, in that low, intimate voice that once played through arenas and now plays through the quiet of our home, he says:
“This first song is for my wife.”
My breath catches.
The audience sighs.
Bella squeaks.
Nathan’s eyes never leave mine as he starts to play The Spark—soft, stripped-down chords that curl in my chest like a memory I haven’t lived yet.
Our song.
The one he wrote for me.
The one that brought him back to music.
The one that brought him back to me.
“You’re the sun in my sky,” he sings.
“My spark in the dark.”
“My home, my heart.”
“My always.”
My throat tightens.
My hand goes instinctively to my belly.
The baby kicks again—stronger—like they know.
Bella leans her head on my shoulder and whispers, “That’s your love song.”
I nod, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.
“It’s ours,” I say softly.
Nathan keeps singing, his voice rich and certain, the lyrics lifting and wrapping around the room like a warm embrace. There’s no bravado here. No stage persona. No armor.
Just the man I love, baring his soul one note at a time.
And the pride inside me?
It’s endless.
Boundless.
A living thing blooming across my ribs.
When the song ends, the audience applauds—but Nathan doesn’t look away from me until the last clap fades.
He mouths, I love you.
I mouth it back, hand pressed over the life growing inside me.
Bella squeezes my fingers. “We’re really a family now, huh?”
“We always were,” I whisper, pulling her close.
And I feel it—the fullness, the certainty, the peace I thought I’d never get.
My husband’s music filling the room.
My niece—our girl—safe and happy.
Our baby growing under my heart.
And it’s overflowing with love.
This is my life now.
My love song.
My forever.
The end.
Thank you for reading Broken Chords!