Epilogue — One Year Later
It was Christmas morning again.
Nell woke slowly, dragged from sleep by the familiar weight of Dominic’s arm across her waist and the pressure of her swollen belly against the mattress.
Eight months along now, the baby was a constant presence — making sleep difficult and breathing a challenge.
Edmund monitored her weekly, his careful hands and careful eyes watching for every sign of trouble.
The risk had not gone away. She had simply decided it would not decide for her.
She shifted carefully, and Dominic’s arm tightened. “Stop squirming.” The words came out rough with sleep, muffled against her hair. “Too early.”
“Your child is using my bladder as a cushion.” She pushed at his arm with a weary laugh, though she did not truly struggle. “I need to get up.”
“Five more minutes.” His hand slid around to rest on her belly, warm and possessive, fingers splayed wide.
The baby kicked — a solid thump against his palm — and he laughed, low and delighted. “Good morning to you too.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, stubble grazing her skin. “Tell your mother to stay.”
The door burst open.
“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” Lily launched herself onto the bed, bouncing across the mattress without any regard for her very pregnant mother, waving a discarded ribbon in the air like a flag of surrender.
Oliver followed more slowly, a real smile on his face — the kind that reached his eyes.
At ten years old he was all long limbs and sharp angles, more serious than any boy his age had a right to be.
But the seriousness sat lighter on him now.
He wore it like a coat he could take off, not armour he could never remove.
“Lily, careful.” He caught his sister’s shoulder before she could bounce onto Nell’s stomach, his expression turning stern. “The baby, remember?”
“I was being careful.” Lily pouted, but allowed herself to be redirected, wedging between Nell and Dominic with the boneless flexibility of childhood.
“Come here.” Dominic reached past Nell to pull Oliver closer, his hand settling on the boy’s shoulder. “Christmas morning tradition. All of us together.”
They lay tangled in the warmth of the bed while snow fell silent outside. The four of them, soon to be five, wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Does the baby kick a lot?” Lily pressed her small hand to Nell’s belly, her dark eyes wide.
“All the time.” Nell covered her daughter’s hand with her own, guiding it to where the movement was strongest. “Especially at night.”
The baby obliged with a solid kick, and Lily’s eyes went round. “I felt it!” She giggled, looking up at Dominic.
“Strong.” Oliver had let himself be pulled closer, his hand joining the rest atop the quilt. “Like a fighter.”
“Like their brother.” Dominic reached out to ruffle Oliver’s hair, his gaze full of pride. “The baby is going to need someone to show them how to be brave.”
Oliver ducked his head, but not before Nell caught the flush of pleasure on his cheeks. He had started calling Dominic “Papa“ six months ago — quietly at first, then more often. It still made Dominic’s eyes go soft every single time.
“Can we stay here forever?” Lily snuggled deeper into the blankets, letting out a long, contented sigh. “Just like this?”
“We have presents downstairs.” Nell reminded her, though she made no move to get up.
“Presents can wait.” Lily yawned, resting her head on Nell’s shoulder. “This is better.”
Nell met Dominic’s eyes over their children’s heads. Grey eyes, warm with love and soft with wonder at the family they had built from the wreckage of so much pain.
One year since the wedding. One year since Gabriel died and the nightmare ended. One year of peace, of healing, of happiness she had never dared to hope for.
“Happy?” Dominic mouthed the word, his eyebrows lifting.
“Terrified.” She mouthed back, her lips curving.
His answering smile said everything. I know. Me too. The good kind.
Outside, snow fell soft and silent, blanketing the world in white. Inside, a family lay tangled together in the warmth of a bed that had become home.
THE END