Epilogue

One Year Later

Dominic

The snow fell in soft flurries, blanketing the sprawling grounds of the mansion, turning the estate into a winter wonderland. From the massive windows of the living room, I watched the flakes drift lazily from the sky, dusting the trees, the lake, and the gardens that had once felt like as much a refuge as a prison. Now, they felt like home.

I leaned against the window frame, sipping a cup of coffee, letting the warmth spread through my chest. For the first time in years, I felt peaceful. The weight I’d carried around for so long, the anger, the bitterness, it had all fallen away. The walls I had built around myself—those high, impenetrable walls that had kept everyone out—had come down, brick by brick, and in their place, something new had grown. Something I had kept so far away from the light of day that it was a wonder it had survived.

Zain’s laughter echoed from the other room, and a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I could hear him rummaging through the boxes of Christmas decorations we had dragged out earlier in the morning. His excitement was contagious; I’d never cared much for holidays, but with him, everything felt different. Brighter. Lighter.

I wouldn’t have imagined letting anyone into my life like this, much less someone like Zain. Someone who had seen through all the ugliness I’d tried to hide behind, someone who had broken down every defense I’d thrown up. And now, we were here—together.

“Dominic!” Zain’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned just as he appeared in the doorway. His face lit up with a smile that made my heart skip a beat. He held a tangled mess of Christmas lights, shaking them in mock frustration. “A little help here?”

I chuckled, setting my coffee down and walking over to him. “You’re the one who insisted on getting every decoration out of storage. Now you’re surprised the lights are tangled?” It had normally been Orwell’s job to untangle this mess and decorate the sitting room, but he had handed over the baton to Zain with pride inflating his chest.

In the years that were luckily behind me, Orwell would decorate the room, and I would avoid it for weeks until the time came to take it all down again. This year, as he mooned over Zain, Orwell said of me, “Give it a few more years, and we’ll dress him as Santa, too.”

Zain had made a vow to see that travesty come true.

He rolled his eyes now but grinned. “It’s not Christmas without the lights! And besides, I don’t remember you complaining when we picked out the tree.”

My gaze shifted to the corner of the room, where the massive Christmas tree stood, its branches still bare but ready to be transformed. Zain had picked it out himself, insisting we get the biggest one that could fit inside the room. And, like always, I hadn’t been able to say no to him.

“Alright, let me see,” I said, taking the lights from him and beginning to untangle the strands. He stood close, watching me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he said softly, leaning in so his shoulder brushed mine, “last year, I never would’ve imagined this. Decorating a Christmas tree in your house.”

My fingers paused for a moment as I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “Neither did I.” He still called it my house, which I supposed it was, but it was an odd thing to hear. We had otherwise given ourselves to one another so fully during this year that the lines were blurred between what belonged to whom.

Zain loved the city. We spent much of our time there, reintroducing me to the society, except that it was a much different kind of society than in the years after I’d graduated. Vivien Woodcock and her crew of misfits turned out to be as welcoming as they’d claimed. They didn’t sit around thinking up ways to squeeze use out of me, and I no longer expected them to. I no longer feared they would.

His smile softened, and he reached out, brushing a hand down my arm. “You’ve changed, you know. A lot.”

I let out a quiet breath, my heart rising at his words. “You changed me,” I admitted. It was the truth. Zain had seen the parts of me I’d tried to hide from the world—and from myself. And somehow, he had loved me despite them.

His hand slipped into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You were always good, Dominic,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Even when you didn’t believe it yourself.” He paused, biting his lip before saying it. “Even when I didn’t know it.”

I felt the familiar warmth spread through me, the kind of warmth I used to think I wasn’t capable of. A year ago, I had been hardened, closed off, driven by revenge and the need to prove myself to a world that had wronged me. But now, standing here with Zain, in the same mansion that had once been a symbol of my exile, I felt lighter.

“I never thought I’d have this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “A real home. Not just a place to hide.”

Zain’s eyes softened as he looked up at me. “It was always a home, Dom. You just had to let someone in.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. He was right, of course. He was always right. Harringford had always been more than just walls and rooms and empty spaces—it was just that I hadn’t known how to see it that way.

Together, we finished untangling the lights, and soon, we were stringing them around the tree, our laughter filling the room. Zain’s excitement was infectious, and I found myself caught up in it, hanging ornaments and garlands and ribbons with more joy than I ever thought I’d feel during a holiday.

As we worked, the snow outside continued to fall, blanketing the world in white, and the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft glow around the room. It felt perfect—like something out of a dream.

When we finally finished, Zain stepped back, admiring our handiwork. The tree was a kaleidoscope of colors and lights, sparkling in the dim room. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, and I could see the awe in his molten-chocolate eyes.

But I wasn’t looking at the tree. I was looking at him.

“Yeah,” I said softly, my gaze fixed on him. “It is.”

He turned toward me, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Are you admiring me or the tree?”

I chuckled, pulling him close, my arms wrapping around his waist. “Both,” I teased before leaning in to kiss him gently, savoring the warmth of his lips against mine.

He sighed into the kiss, melting into me, and for a moment, we just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the room bathed in the soft glow of the tree lights.

When we finally pulled apart, Zain rested his head against my chest, his arms still around me. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he whispered, and I could hear the truth in his voice.

I kissed the top of his head, holding him close. “Me too,” I admitted.

We stood there for a long time, just holding each other, listening to the crackle of the fire and the gentle whisper of the snow falling outside. It was a far cry from the man I had been a little over a year ago—the man who had pushed away everyone who tried to get close, the man who had been consumed by bitterness and revenge.

Now, I was someone else. Someone better. And it was all because of him.

As we watched the snow fall outside, I realized that I didn’t need to be the beast anymore. I didn’t need to hide behind walls or lash out at the world to protect myself. I had Zain. I had love. And that was all I needed.

“Come on,” I said softly, guiding him toward the sofa near the fire. “Let’s sit down and enjoy this.”

We curled up together, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the lights twinkle on the tree and the snow fall outside. And for the first time in years, I felt at peace. Truly, deeply at peace.

The beast was gone. And in his place, a man who had finally found what he’d been searching for all along.

Love. Home. Happiness.

And it was all right here, in his arms.

The End.