Page 78 of ’Til You Break

When we reach my car, we discover Muffin has claimed the bonnet as his personal bed. Vik laughs and scoops our little menace onto his shoulder. Muffin stretches, purring happily as he settles against his dad.

“Have a great day at work.” Vik leans in carefully so he doesn’t disturb the little cat. He kisses me softly.

My heart melts.

I climb into the driver’s seat and set off on my second solo drive to work. I can’t stop smiling the entire way. After months of living the life I’d always dreamed about, I’ve finally realized something. Peace doesn’t come from fixing every mistake you’ve ever made. Peace is waking up beside the person you love. Holding their hand. Kissing them goodbye. Knowing they’ll still be there when you come home.

Vik gives me that.

And I give it back to him.

We met as two broken people. Together, we found the missing pieces.

We became whole when we found each other.

And that’s the most beautiful way to begin the rest of our lives.

Epilogue

Vik

One Year Later

We lie beneath the stars, surrounded by friends and family, with drinks flowing freely and food sizzling on the barbecue. The sun said goodnight hours ago, and the fields of wildflowers around us have long since tucked themselves in.

Yet I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the woman resting against my arm.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling asleep already,” Hannah’s mother calls from the picnic table.

It took Hannah a while to get comfortable with our parents seeing us like this.

Curled up together. Like lovers. Especially after we all once shared the same roof.

Their opinions didn’t bother me. Not while they were adjusting. Certainly not now, when teasing us has become one of their favorite pastimes. Because our happiness isn’t dictated by what anyone else thinks.

“No, not sleeping,” Hannah answers for both of us. “Just enjoying the view.”

She usually speaks for us when it comes to our parents. I’ve made peace with my father over everything that happened. Healing demanded it.

But old habits die hard. Most of the time, I still stay quiet unless someone speaks to me first.

“You can say that again,” Dad says. “Vik hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you sat down.”

Even beneath the soft glow from the lanterns, I see Hannah’s cheeks flush.

“Can you blame me?” The words are meant only for her. Even if everyone else hears.

“Vik...” She bites her lip, trying to hide her face.

I don’t let her. I slip a finger beneath her chin and gently lift her eyes back to mine.

“I love you, Hannah,” I whisper, hoping to save her from dying of embarrassment.

“I love you too.”

Those four words hit harder than they ever have before. Maybe it’s the fresh air. Maybe it’s spending the day surrounded by the people we love. Or maybe it’s simply because I can’t imagine my life without her anymore.

Whatever the reason, I know one thing. I want every tomorrow to begin beside her.