Six months later...
Angel's POV
---
The sunlight spilled into our bedroom like it had no manners.
I buried my face in the pillow with a groan. "Why is it so bright? Who gave the sun permission to disturb my beauty sleep?"
Behind me, a warm arm snaked around my waist, pulling me backward against his chest.
"You should have known when you married a morning person," Samuel murmured against my ear. "You brought this on yourself."
I half-laughed, half-sighed. "You were not a morning person when I met you."
"Yeah, but I also wasn't waking up next to my wife back then," he said, voice thick with sleep and smugness. "Motivation changes everything."
Wife.
That word still made my heart do backflips. Even after six months.
---
We got married six months ago, in a quiet garden ceremony. Nothing flashy. Just close friends, family, and too many teary speeches. His mother cried like she was auditioning for a soap opera. His dad looked proud of us but didn't know how to say it. My mum threatened to cry and throw rice at the same time. My dad looked like he wanted to give another warning speech but decided against it last minute.
And Samuel?
He looked at me like I was the first and last woman he'd ever love.
I'd never forget the way he whispered "You're it for me, always" right before we took our vows.
---
Now we lived in a small apartment with soft brown curtains, a record player, and a weird lamp Samuel insisted was "vintage."
We argued about laundry. Typical us
Took turns cooking dinner. Watched movies under one blanket. Spent too many nights talking about the future-kids, travel, maybe getting a dog.
Life wasn't perfect. But it was ours.
---
Today, I was supposed to be getting ready for brunch with my parents.
But right now, I was more focused on the man currently trailing lazy kisses down my shoulder.
"You're distracting me," I muttered, even as my fingers tangled in his hair.
"I'm married to you. That's my full-time job."
"You're also making me late."
"I'm also making you smile," he whispered, kissing the side of my neck. "So technically, I'm winning."
I turned to face him, hands resting on his chest. "You know this isn't sustainable, right? You can't distract me with kisses every time I have responsibilities."
He grinned. "Watch me."
---
I eventually made it to my parents' house-thirty minutes late and slightly flustered.
Blessing raised an eyebrow. "You're glowing."
Emmanuel smirked behind his newspaper. "Bet it was that boy's fault."
I laughed and shook my head. "Husband. It's my husband's fault."
"Hmm," Mum said, pouring me juice. "He's lucky he makes you happy."
"He does. Every day. In the smallest, most annoying ways."
---
That night, I found Samuel sitting on the couch, flipping through our wedding album.
"Do you ever get tired of looking at these?" I ask as I approach him.
He looked up.
"Never."
I sat beside him, resting my head on his shoulder.
He pointed at a picture of us dancing under fairy lights. "You looked like a dream."
"You looked like a man who cried twice and tried to hide it."
He chuckled. "That. I did do and I'd do it all over again. Even the ugly crying. If it means we can have our wedding all over."
I kissed his cheek. "We made it, didn't we?"
He turned to me, eyes soft. "Yeah, we really did."
---
Later that night, wrapped in each other under the quiet hum of our ceiling fan, I whispered:
"Samuel?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you still choose me, if you had to do it all over again?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Every damn time."
Two years later.....
There's a very specific kind of chaos that comes with raising a toddler.
Its the kind where; where you're living room permanently smells like baby powder and fried plantain.
The kind where your neatly arranged throw pillows now live on the floor.
The kind where silence is no longer peaceful - it's suspicious.
And right now?
There was silence.
"Samuel?" I called already climbing off the couch with one eye twitching. "Where is your son?"
From somewhere in the kitchen, my husband yelled back, "He was just with you!"
" No. He was with you."
A pause.
Then..... " Wait, what do you mean was?! "
After frantically searching the whole apartment, I found our son in the bathroom. Naked. Sitting in the middle of the floor with toothpaste smeared across his tiny round cheeks and the lid of the toilet in his hands like a trophy.
"Oh My God!!. SAMUEL!!!"
---
His name is Ezra Emmanuel Daniels.
Chubby-cheeked. Barefoot. Mischievous. Smart enough to open the fridge and hide in it. And he was just a year old.
And somehow, exactly like both of us.
---
Later that night, when Ezra was finally asleep (after five lullabies, two diaper changes, and one emergency biscuit bribe), I flopped onto the bed like a survivor.
Samuel walked in, shirtless, towel slung over his shoulder, shaking his head.
"I swear, he said, " that boy is part goat. He tried to eat the sponge. Again."
I groaned. " I told you to stop letting him watch animal videos."
"I'm raising a free spirit."
"You're raising a future menace."
"Like you." He retorted laughing as he climbed into bed beside me. We lay there in the dark for a moment, just breathing. The room smelt like baby lotion and lavender oil. Ezra snored faintly from his crib.
"You know," Samuel murmured, pulling me close, "I still look at you and can't believe this is real."
" What?" I raise an eyebrow " me in my pajamas with biscuits crumbs on my shirt? "
"No. You in my life. Like this. With our tiny tornado of a son that took after you and this stupidly beautiful chaotic little family we've made."
I closed my eyes, heart full.
"This is everything " I whispered.
And then-
A tiny voice from the crib. Muffled. Sleepy. But loud enough to freeze us both mid-breath.
"Chaotic."
Samuel sat up so fast he nearly fell off the bed. "Did you hear that??"
I blinked. "Wait-did he just...?"
"Ezra?" Samuel stood up, tiptoed to the crib, and peered over. "Did you just say 'chaotic'?"
Ezra blinked sleepily, yawned, and snuggled deeper into his blanket.
And then, clear as day, he repeated.
"Chaotic."
Samuel wheezed. "This child's first word is chaotic?!"
I clutched the blanket to my chest. "I-I'm going to cry. You said that earlier. He got it from you!"
Samuel turned back, both horrified and proud. "No, no. You don't understand. That's our legacy. That's the most accurate word he could've possibly picked to describe us. Our journey"
I started laughing so hard I nearly choked on air.
"My son's first word is chaotic" I whispered between wheezes. "God, what have we done."
Samuel just grinned and walked back to bed.
"Our best work."
He climbed in, pulled me close, and kissed the top of my head.
And as Ezra softly repeated his new favorite word again from the crib, I knew...
We didn't just survive.
We built something wild and beautiful out of every broken piece.
We were chaos.
We were love.
We were home.
---
Some nights, I remembered the girl I used to be.
Broken. Guarded. Secretive. Anxious and terrified of love.
And then I'd look at Samuel.
At Ezra.
At the mess and the joy and the peace of it all.
And I knew - I chose right.