By the time the casket was lowered into the ground, it finally sank in.
How alone I had become, with no one of my blood left alive by my side.
I hadn't brought flowers. He didn't deserve them. So I simply stood there, silent and still, as our family priest read the final rites from his Bible. The words blurred together, carried off by the wind, meaningless against the weight pressing down on my chest.
A quiet signal was given.
The mechanism whirred, and the casket disappeared beneath the earth. But I didn't move, not until the first shovelfuls of soil hit the wood below with a dull, final thud.
Only then did I turn away.
I hadn't even asked what had become of Arturo. The last I had heard, Camilla and Liam had dealt with him before disappearing for their honeymoon. Her phone had been unreachable since, and a part of me had started to worry, but Alex had assured me they had gone to his family's land in Ireland. Remote and isolated, so a signal was hard to find.
I chose to believe that if she needed me, she would find a way.
"I was thinking," Alex said beside me, his hand resting at the small of my back as we walked out of the graveyard, "maybe we should move to Croatia. Officially."
I slowed, turning to face him.
"What do you think?"
My steps came to a stop.
"Isn't it too soon?" I asked. "The business—"
"We'll handle things from here, for now," he cut in smoothly. "But I mean our home. Where we live. Where we build something that isn't..." He glanced back briefly toward the graveyard. "...this. A new beginning."
His gaze returned to mine, softer now. "We could raise our family there," he added.
A pause.
"You love it there."
I searched his face, something in my chest tightening at the quiet certainty in his voice.
"I don't want to get your hopes up," I said, my fingers fidgeting. "I think I might be pregnant."
For a moment, he didn't react. Like the words needed time to settle.
"Think?" he repeated quietly.
I nodded. "It's too early to be sure. I could be wrong."
Silence stretched between us, but it wasn't empty. It was full, heavy and fragile.
Then Alex stepped closer.
His hand came up, cupping my face. His thumb, brushing lightly along my cheek as he searched my eyes like he was trying to read every possibility, every outcome, all at once.
"You should've told me," he murmured.
"I just found out," I said softly. "And I didn't want to say anything until I was sure."
His gaze softened.
"Hey," he said gently, lowering his forehead to mine. "Look at me."
And I did.
A small smile tugged at his lips. Quiet, but real.
"If you are," he said, "then we deal with it together."
His thumb traced the line of my jaw.
"And if you're not..." he added, his voice just as calm, "then there'll be another time."
My breath caught slightly.
He leaned in then, closing the distance between us, his lips pressing softly against mine. Slow, and intentional. His hand remained at my jaw, warm and firm, tilting my face just enough to deepen the kiss. Not with urgency, but with a quiet certainty.
Like a promise, not a demand.
When he pulled back, it wasn't far. His breath lingering against my lips, his thumb brushing lightly across my cheek as if he was memorizing the moment.
"Whatever happens," he murmured, his voice low, unwavering, "we face it together."
His hand slid down to lace with mine.
"No matter what," he whispered, "I'll be happy either way."
I nodded, my fingers tightening around his.
"I love you," I said, my voice softer now, my gaze no longer guarded. "Have I ever told you that?"
"Never enough," he replied, lifting my hand to press a kiss against my knuckles. His lips lingered there for a moment. "But I love you more, nonetheless. Always."
A quiet smile tugged at my lips.
He didn't let go of our hands, lacing them together, grounding me in something real and solid, before guiding me gently toward the car waiting at the edge of my family's graveyard.
The gravel crunched softly beneath our steps.
Behind us, the quiet rhythm of soil hitting wood continued, fading with every step we took away. And I didn't even bother looking back, always checking over my shoulder. Because for the first time in my life, I didn't have to.
As the car pulled away from the cemetery, leaving behind everything that had once defined me, from my past, my blood, to my name, I felt something shift.
Not an ending, but a beginning.
Alex reached for my hand in the car, his fingers threading through mine as Sicily stretched out ahead of us.
And this time, I let myself believe it.
-------------------
Two years later, I found myself standing before the same endless stretch of ocean.
The water was a serene blue beneath a cloudless sky, the sun casting a soft warmth over the terrace. A gentle sea breeze brushing past me, carrying the similar scent of salt and summer from the beautiful Croatian coast.
Home. I had stood here before.
Once, on the morning of my first wedding to Alex, before we both learned the truth about our lives. Then again, the day after our second wedding, when he took me here just to let me see what he had done to the place. It was where I learned how to love him again.
Now, we get to call it home and see it every single day.
Laughter drifted from the bedroom behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.
I turned just in time to see Alex stepping out, carrying both of our one-year-old twins in his arms. Our daughter, dark-haired like him, rested sleepily against his shoulder, her small thumb tucked into her mouth. Our son, with my reddish hair, clung stubbornly to his leg, refusing to be carried properly. Both of them had inherited his green eyes.
"I'm sorry," Alex said, slightly breathless. "They refused to nap unless they saw you first."
A small smile tugged at my lips.
It turned out my instincts had been right that day. I had been pregnant.
And now—
Well, life surely had a way of surprising us again.
Alex slows as he approach, his gaze sharpening when he caught my expression.
His brows drew together. "What's wrong?"
I exhale slowly, steadying myself.
"I was going to wait until you got them to sleep first," I admitted.
Something in my tone must've shifted, because his posture changes instantly. He's more alert now, more focused.
"What is it?" he asked, quieter this time.
I stepped closer, reaching out to brush my fingers lightly over our daughter's hair before letting my hand fall to rest gently over my stomach.
It was subtle, but he noticed. He always did.
His eyes following the movement of my hand. Our son mimicking him with his eyes. Then snapped back to mine.
For a second, he didn't speak and I worry that he is starting to lose it.
"Alex?" I said softly.
A small, almost disbelieving smile formed on my lips.
"I think...we're having another one."