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Chapter 116 – Ethan's POV
"She's My Peace"
The sun was already pouring in through the blinds when I finally stirred, the warmth soaking into my skin like a gentle reminder of the night before.
No alarm. No urgent calls. No deadlines.
Just peace.
And her.
Amara.
She was curled into my chest, breathing softly, her hand resting right over my heart like it belonged there. Maybe it did. God knows it beat differently since she walked into my life. Or maybe since the night she walked away and left me with nothing but memories and a stained mattress I couldn't bear to change.
But now she was here. And this time, she stayed.
I stayed still for a long time, just watching her sleep.
It still felt unreal — the fact that she was mine. Not in the rushed, secret, reckless way we'd once tried to pretend didn't matter… but truly mine. Openly. Fully.
And I was hers.
Even if I never said it aloud the way I should. Even if there were things I was still figuring out how to confess — about my past, about the weight I carried, about the fear that somehow I'd still mess this up.
Her lips twitched slightly, like she was dreaming, and I smiled, lifting a hand to brush a loose strand of hair off her face. She looked peaceful. Soft. Breakable, almost.
How someone so strong could still look this delicate in my arms… I'd never understand.
But I would protect that softness with everything I had.
Carefully, I leaned in and kissed the top of her head.
She stirred and blinked up at me, her eyes sleepy but warm. "Morning…"
"Morning, beautiful."
She smiled — that shy, sleepy kind of smile that made my chest ache.
"You slept hard," she murmured.
"You wore me out," I said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks told me she liked hearing it.
"I was gonna make you breakfast," I whispered.
She nestled closer. "Not yet."
And so we stayed there, tangled together like we had nowhere else to be — no one else to become, except what we already were in that moment.
And I let myself believe it could last.
After a while, she finally let me go with a quiet groan and a stretch that had me wondering how long we could really stay in bed. But I knew if I didn't get up soon, she wouldn't eat until noon, and I wanted her day to start right.
So I got dressed, kissed her one more time, and headed for the kitchen.
The apartment was quiet except for the birds outside and the occasional car passing by. I moved through it like a man who finally understood what it meant to have something worth coming home to.
Eggs. Pancakes. Strawberries — she liked them cold and sweet.
I found the playlist she liked, something soft and indie, and let it play in the background as I cooked. The smell of breakfast began to fill the space, and for a moment, I just paused.
Hands on the counter.
Heart too full.
I never imagined this would be my life.
Not after everything. Not after Arya.
That thought came like a ripple, small but still there.
Arya.
She'd once been the axis around which my heart turned — quietly, without her ever knowing. And now, she was part of my life in a different way. A chapter I'd closed, even if there would always be something fond left on the page.
But Amara…
She was the new story. The one I didn't see coming but never wanted to end.
There was a knock at the door, light and familiar. I turned the heat off and went to open it.
Damon stood there, looking tired but content, like a man who'd spent the night taking care of someone he loved.
"Morning," I said, stepping aside. "Coffee?"
He nodded. "Thanks."
He didn't have to explain why he was here. Arya was in her eighth month now. The cravings were wild, her moods unpredictable, and Damon had taken the chaos like a champ. I respected him more now than I ever had.
He sat at the island, watching me pour him a cup. "She wants mangoes at midnight and fried plantains at 6 a.m."
I chuckled. "At least she's consistent."
"I think it's a girl," he said suddenly.
I looked up, surprised.
"She said it wasn't this bad with Liam," he added. "But this one's different. Moody. Demanding. Stubborn."
"Definitely your child, then," I teased.
He grinned. "That's what I said."
We shared a quiet moment, sipping coffee, both of us somehow fathers in our own ways — both of us in love with women who'd changed us.
"She's doing okay?" I asked.
He nodded. "She's strong. But she's tired."
I hesitated. "If you ever need anything…"
"I know."
We didn't need to say more.
After he left, I brought breakfast to the table and called for Amara.
She came out in one of my shirts, hair tousled, eyes still sleepy. And God — I couldn't stop staring.
She sat down, smiled at the spread, and then at me. "You made all this?"
"I wanted you to feel spoiled."
"I already do."
We ate slowly, sharing bites and stories, and I knew, right then, this was my favorite version of forever — not the kind filled with diamonds and drama and chaos, but the kind that tasted like strawberries and sounded like laughter.
I reached for her hand and held it across the table. "Can we do this again tomorrow?"
She looked up, surprised. "What?"
"This. You. Me. Breakfast. Sundays."
Her smile broke slowly, like sunlight. "Yeah… we can."
And I knew — without a single doubt — I wasn't letting her go again.
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End of Chapter 116 – Ethan's POV.