Gunfire broke out, and Ethan moved with terrifying precision, keeping me safe while everything around us fractured.
Julian grabbed me in desperation, pressing a gun to my side.
“You do not want to do this,” Ethan said coldly.
“I have no choice,” Julian snapped.
“You always had a choice,” I said, forcing him to look at me.
That moment of hesitation was enough.
Ethan acted instantly, disarming him and ending the threat without killing him in front of me.
Julian was taken away alive, but the damage he caused could not be undone.
Weeks later, he died in custody, and I cried only for the years I had lost.
Life moved forward.
I moved into Ethan’s life fully, not because I had to, but because I chose to.
He offered legal adoption papers one evening, explaining he wanted everything done properly.
“I have already started being a father,” he said quietly.
That was when I asked him to marry me.
We married in a small courtroom, simple and real, and for the first time I felt like I was walking toward something instead of away.
Months later, our daughter was born, small and fierce, changing everything with a single cry.
I watched Ethan hold her, and something in him settled in a way I could not describe.