Chapter 24. Coming Home
Dominic hadn't felt this happy in months.
A happiness — deep, unhurried, radiating from somewhere he had almost forgotten existed
Having her beside him.
Isla's head in his lap, fast asleep, one hand curled under her cheek the way she always slept.
The three of them in the same room, in the same moment, belonging to each other completely.
Because they did
Coffee dates became a ritual.
Dinners became a thing both of them looked forward to all week.
Weekend family outings, became the hours that made everything else worth it.
Seraphina waited for him too.
Her smile would bloom the moment he walked in, soft and warm—like she had been waiting just for that.
She would lean into him as they walked, naturally, her shoulder brushing his as if that space beside him belonged to her.
Sometimes she texted first—nothing important, just little pieces of her day she wanted to share with him.
She was happy.
Seeing her smile again eased something tight in his chest — something he knew he had broken.
He intended to keep it there forever.
————-
The weeks that followed felt like something returning to its original shape.
Coffee turned into lunch.
Lunch slipped quietly into dinner.
Evening walks stretched past midnight, the two of them too lost in conversation to notice the hours passing.
Saturdays were often spent with Isla — the three of them tangled together on his sofa, watching whatever Isla insisted on.
She would fall asleep before the ending, curled between them, and neither of them ever moved to disturb her.
Every morning, a text arrived.
Small. Warm.
The kind that said I thought of you first without ever needing the words.
He sent her favourite dessert often — sometimes with coffee, sometimes with flowers.
He remembered the smallest things she mentioned in passing.
A book she wanted to read.
An author she once said she admired.
A restaurant she had only spoken about once.
He remembered all of it.
And quietly, gently, he gave those things to her — never asking for anything in return.
———
She told Claire — "it doesn't feel like trying."
Claire, smiled & said— "it was never supposed to."
—————-
They had been walking after dinner, one night.
He stopped outside a bookshop with its lights still on, turned to her.
Reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
She went very still.
He looked at her — the way he used to, before everything, like she was the most precious thing in the world — and leaned in slowly.
Giving her every chance to step back.
She didn't.
His lips on hers.
Soft at first.
Then certain.
Her hand found his collar.
His arms drew her closer.
The kiss deepened slowly — the way it did when two people had waited long enough and were finally, completely done waiting.
Warm and unhurried, tasting of the evening, their lips and tongues moving together in a slow, languid dance that made the rest of the world entirely irrelevant.
She forgot where they were.
She didn't care.
When they finally pulled back she kept her eyes closed for just a moment longer.
When she opened them he was still looking at her.
She smiled.
He exhaled slowly — like something enormous had been set down.
Hand in hand, they, walked the rest of the way to her car without talking.
Both of them smiling.
————
Isla had been asking to go to the mall for days.
So Seraphina finally agreed one quiet Sunday afternoon.
Isla moved between them like a small, unstoppable current — one hand in each of theirs, tugging them forward.
She pointed out things with great seriousness, declaring some items absolutely essential despite being entirely unnecessary, negotiating with the bright confidence of a child who had never truly lost an argument that mattered to her.
In one shop, Isla held up two identical hairbands in different colours.
"Which one?" she asked.
He looked at Seraphina.
Seraphina looked at him.
"Both," they said at the exact same moment.
Isla's face lit up instantly.
Later———there was ice cream.
The three of them sat at a small table outside the shop.
Isla had insisted on two scoops and was now bravely trying to manage them both.
Across the table, Dominic caught Seraphina's eyes, both smiled.
The quiet, wordless language of two parents who had raised the same child.
She had missed that.
She hadn't realised how deeply until it returned.
On the walk back through the mall, Isla was between them again — one hand in each of theirs.
She glanced up at Seraphina, then at Dominic, with the calm certainty of a child who had always believed the world should look exactly like this.
"Mall days are the best," Isla declared.
Neither of them answered, but smiled.
"Can we always come together like this? she added, as though the decision had already been made.
Dominic looked at Seraphina over Isla's head.
Seraphina met his gaze.
Neither of them said anything.
But neither of them disagreed
—————-
While driving home, Isla already asleep in the backseat before they had left the car park, at a red light he said — quietly, not making it a moment —
"Come home for dinner. I've been learning to cook."
She turned to look at him, smiled & said.
"I'll cook," she said.
He smiled.
"Both of us," he said.
She looked at him for a moment.
"Alright," she said.
————-
They cooked together.
The kitchen filled with the smell of something good — his chopping, her stirring, Isla appearing occasionally from her room to say something , before disappearing again.
Easy and warm and entirely natural.
After dinner, Dominic lingered for a moment before speaking.
"If you'd like... you could stay," he said quietly. "It's late."
Seraphina glanced toward the living room, where Isla's laughter carried faintly down the hallway.
She didn't answer right away.
But she didn't refuse either
—————-
Isla was bathed, dressed in her pyjamas, and tucked into bed soon after.
Dominic read her a story while Seraphina placed the rabbit beside her pillow.
Isla insisted on another, but fell asleep halfway through the first page.
Dominic closed the book softly.
Seraphina pulled the blanket higher around her shoulder.
They stood there for a moment, watching her sleep.
Then quietly left the room
—————-
Later, in the kitchen, Seraphina rinsed the dishes and set it on the rack.
Dominic wiped the counter beside her.
The quiet between them felt... easy.
Familiar in a way that made her chest ache a little.
When everything was done, Seraphina dried her hands slowly.
She turned towards him.
"Can I ask you something?"
He looked up immediately.
"Of course."
She hesitated, as if deciding whether to leave the question where it had been sitting for months.
But it came out anyway, as she needed closure.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why did you stop seeing me... after Natalia, came ?"
Dominic went still.
He set the cloth down.
Turned fully toward her.
And answered.
Not about Natalia.
Further back than that.
About the years before.
How work had grown larger and larger until it filled everything.
How success had quietly become the thing he fed first every day.
How he had started assuming Seraphina would always be there — not because he didn't love her, but because he loved her like something permanent.
Something that didn't need tending.
Didn't need checking.
Didn't need care.
"I didn't notice it happening," he said quietly. "The distance.
The way you were slowly pulling away."
His voice dropped.
"And that's the part I'm most ashamed of."
Seraphina looked down at her hands.
"I felt it," she said softly. "Long before I could explain it."
A pause.
"I just didn't know how to make you feel it too."
Dominic's chest tightened.
"I see it now," he said. "I see you both,now.
Completely."
Silence settled between them again.
Then he stepped closer.
"If you give me another chance," he said quietly, "I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel invisible again."
His eyes didn't leave hers.
"You. And Isla."
A small breath left her.
He didn't rush her.
Didn't move.
Just waited.
Finally she spoke.
"Yes."
One word.
But certain.
His shoulders dropped, like something heavy had finally been lifted.
Seraphina stepped closer.
She reached for him first.
Dominic pulled her into his arms.
The kiss that followed was slow.
Not desperate.
Not rushed.
Just warm, steady, full of everything they had carried for months — the distance, the hurt, the waiting.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved very far.
Later, when they went to bed, there was no awkwardness.
Seraphina slipped beneath the covers first.
Dominic lay beside her.
For a moment they simply faced each other in the quiet room.
Then he moved closer she turned, and he wrapped an arm around her.
Pulling her gently against him.
She fit there the way she always had.
He rested his chin lightly near her shoulder.
Seraphina relaxed back into him.
Neither of them spoke.
The room felt calm in a way it hadn't for a very long time.
Dominic held her a little tighter as sleep began to pull at them.
Seraphina's breathing slowed first.
Then his.
And for the first time in months—
both of them slept peacefully.
————
She woke up to the smell of coffee &, an empty bed besides her.
For a moment — just a moment — she forgot everything that had happened.
The months.
The distance.
All of it.
Just — morning.
Their home.
Coffee downstairs.
She got up, went to the bathroom, cleaned up, then went downstairs — wearing his shirt, the hem falling to her knees
He was in the kitchen.
Two cups on the counter.
Something in the pan.
Wearing only his track pants, he moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake anyone.
She stood in the doorway, looked up—and stilled.
Her gaze lingered on his bare, toned upper body, warmth spreading through her before she could look away
This man.
In this kitchen.
This ordinary, specific, entirely familiar thing.
She moved to the island without thinking.
He heard her & turned.
Saw her — morning hair, his shirt she had borrowed, entirely at home — and something in his face went completely quiet.
He crossed to her.
Kissed her, for a good one minute, till she was breathless , smiled & said, good morning .
She put her arms around him & whispered good morning, face close to his bare chest.
His heartbeat under her cheek.
————-
Later, Seraphina helped Isla get ready, after which, Isla came running into the kitchen.
"I want pancakes!" she announced.
Both parents looked at each other.
"Pancakes," Dominic agreed.
So they made pancakes.
Isla ate three and announced they were the best pancakes ever.
Dominic and Seraphina exchanged a small smile across the kitchen.
——————-
He drove them back to her parents' house after breakfast.
Parked outside.
She unbuckled Isla, who ran to the door immediately.
Then she straightened.
Stood beside the car.
He stood on the other side.
Looking at her over the roof.
"Thank you," she said. "For last night."
"Thank you for staying," he said , cane close to her & kissed briefly.
She responded and smiled, then slowly went inside the house.
——————
After that — everything shifted naturally.
She started coming over more.
Bringing things without mentioning it.
A book here.
A cardigan there.
Her favourite mug appearing in his kitchen one morning without explanation.
He noticed.
Said nothing.
Just quietly made space.
Isla moved between both homes without question — the ease of a child who knew she was loved wherever she was.
Sunday mornings began at his house more often than not.
Walks after dinner became the thing neither of them skipped.
They stopped explaining themselves to anyone.
They simply — were.
Claire told Adrian one evening — "she's happy".
Dominic already knew.
He saw it every time she looked at him.
He intended to keep it that way
—————
A month later.
Sunday evening, their home.
They were on the sofa. Isla asleep upstairs.
The city outside slow and quiet, the hush of a Sunday settling around them.
Dominic leaned back, half-watching the muted TV.
"Isla asked me something yesterday," he said quietly.
Seraphina tilted her head.
"What?"
He smiled faintly, a little wry.
"She asked... why don't we all live together like her friends live with their parents ."
The words hung softly in the air.
Seraphina didn't answer right away.
Her eyes drifted around the room — the familiar corners, the books she had slowly brought back, the soft lamplight casting everything in a warm glow.
Dominic's thumb brushed over her hand.
"Seems like she thinks it should be this way... all the time," he said smiling softly. "And I fully agree with her."
Seraphina looked at him, waiting.
He let his words linger, careful, gentle, almost a suggestion rather than a question.
"You know this could be home.
For you, Isla...
...us.
If you want it to be."
She blinked, letting the weight of that settle.
The quiet invitation, the soft certainty behind it, was enough.
A long pause.
"Alright," she said, softly, almost to herself.
He watched her for a moment, relief and warmth passing over his face.
Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
Not tentative. Not careful. Warm, certain, entirely theirs.
Two people who had taken the long road back.
And finally stopped walking away.
————
She said alright.
And meant it.
Completely