Epilogue
ISLA
This started as a love triangle where I said…
I’d loved two men in all my life.
Two very different men.
There was no confusing them.
Where Julius’s and my relationship blossomed from a loving friendship, Kraven’s and mine stemmed from nothing but hatred.
But there was a thin line between love and hate that I inevitably crossed with each of them. It was this tightrope we spent years dancing around…
Just waiting.
Breathing.
Living in these moments in time that would eventually become memories of our love stories with the choices of our pasts growing vines that felt like thorns of a rose you’d rip from a garden. The kind that would wickedly prick your finger and draw your blood to protect itself.
Its beauty.
Its scent.
Its vibrant red color.
Every rose told its own story of survival, each thorn served its own purpose until the petals faded and withered away before falling to the ground.
I told myself I fell in love with each of them at different times, in different ways, with different words and different actions that held their own praise.
Cause and effect were always our problem. This slippery slope we skated across was on very thin ice, and it only became more hazardous as time went on.
Especially when they both admitted…
“Nothing hurts more than the woman we love, loving someone else in the same way she loves you too.”
You see, this wasn’t just a love triangle between two men I loved.
No…
This was deeper.
Harder.
More tragic.
This would inflict misery, no matter the outcome.
A domino effect.
Because this was a love triangle between two brothers instead. I was always the one smack dab in the middle, the one who had to make the ultimate choice, the one they had to share.
And nothing could have prepared me for the impact when, together, they declared, “We're yours.”
Then, all in one breath, all in one second, they pleaded…
“Now… say you’re mine.”
Except… this love triangle changed into something we couldn’t name.
We couldn’t define it because we were our own connection, our own love story, and nobody could take that away from us.
Despite our past and what got us to this moment, it had built who we were as people and as a unit.
I wasn’t asking you to understand it. I wasn’t even asking you to approve it.
This was our love story that shifted into something perfect. It might not be perfect for everyone else, but it was our own little world where nothing else mattered but the three people in this “why choose” with me.
My love story involved two very different men, who were sharing me, but I was also sharing them.
This wasn’t one-sided. We all loved each other.
Although there were many obstacles to overcome and many challenges that would eventually arise, the one thing that would never change would be our love for each other.
They hadn’t asked about the paternity of the baby, and maybe one day I’d tell them because, of course, I already knew. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t know who the father of my baby was? I knew that day in the hospital when they handed me the results.
I knew before I even opened the envelope when they left the room, and I was alone. I wasn’t shocked when I saw his name. It was the reassurance I needed to trust my own intuition. It was what pushed me to say I wasn’t choosing between them. I chose both.
My intuition, my gut, had never steered me wrong.
Every day, it got a little easier to live with the truth. I stopped looking over my shoulder, and I stopped living in the past. I was a new person—reborn, so to speak—the moment I gave in to us.
I couldn’t live in the past, I couldn’t live in fear, but I could live with the truth, and maybe they would ask for it too.
Until then, I’d keep the paternity a secret unless they wanted to know. The facts were facts, and eventually, the baby would show who the real father was. When that moment came, I knew they’d be able to handle it.
A huge part of me already knew they were aware of who it was, too. We all felt the truth…
That was Julius’s blood running through my baby boy’s veins.
THE END.