Epilogue

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,

Love like you'll never be hurt,

Sing like there's nobody listening,

And live like it's heaven on earth."

― William W. Purkey

Caia

I adjusted the flowers and took a step back, trying to hold myself together.

In all these years, I've only visited my son's grave two times. Each time, I'd bring flowers, sit on the cold ground, and spill my heart out to him for hours. I'd stay the whole day, telling him everything—every thought, every memory, every fear and doubt, every smile and tear. And when there was nothing left to say, I'd kiss his stone, get up, and walk away.

Some people say visiting helps with grief, like it somehow makes things easier. But for me, it used to be the opposite. I didn't need to stand in front of a cold, hard stone with his name on it to feel close to him. He's with me. Every moment. Every single second. I carry him with me, always.

But as my husband often says, everything is different now.

His hands found their way around my waist, pulling me closer until I was pressed against him. "Hello, Lukyan," he whispered.

I reached up, covering his hands with mine, tracing the familiar lines of his fingers.

"Your mama told me what you said to her, and I just wanted you to know something, buddy. I love you too. So, so much."

A soft smile spread across my lips, even as the ache in my chest deepened.

Alexsei exhaled against my neck, kissing me gently. "We wanted to thank you, Lukyan."

A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, trailing down my cheek. "Yes," I whispered. "Thank you for being the best thing that ever happened to us."

"And thank you," Alexsei continued, his voice a rough whisper, "for sending us this second miracle." His hand moved slowly, reverently, over my swollen belly.

I nodded, biting my lip, struggling to hold back the tears. "Who knew miracles could still exist... after everything we went through?"

A year ago, Alexsei and I renewed our vows. But this time, it wasn't for show—it was real. We made promises from our hearts, not out of duty or obligation.

We decided to stay in New York, to make it our home. He found us the most beautiful house, one with a sprawling garden, so full of life. The trees were tall and strong, offering shade and peace. Poker, our sweet English Cocker—not the Doberman he had once teased me about—ran free in that garden, bringing a kind of light back into our lives.

And then, we made the hardest decision of all. We brought Lukyan's grave here, to our garden. We couldn't bear to leave him behind in Russia. He belonged with us, always.

I visit him often now, whispering my thoughts, sharing every joy and sorrow, hoping somehow he knows.

A few days ago, after my third visit to his grave, something weird happened.

It was like the grief and the weight of everything finally caught up to me. I felt so weak, like all the strength had been drained from me. I barely made it back into the house before I collapsed on the living room floor. Poker was there—he saved me, really. He barked and barked until Alexsei rushed in, his face pale with fear.

At the hospital, I remember the sterile smell, the fluorescent lights that felt too bright, and the knot of dread tightening in my chest. Dr. Sanchez, a young Mexican woman with kind eyes, walked in, holding my file.

"Mrs. Romaniev," she began, but my voice came out, a whisper before she could continue.

"Am I dying?" I asked, gripping Alexsei's hand so tight I thought I might break it.

Dr. Sanchez smiled, a warmth in her eyes that I couldn't quite understand. "No, Mrs. Romaniev. You're not dying. You're pregnant. With twins."

The room spun for a moment as her words sank in. I remember Alexsei collapsing beside me, his face buried in my lap, his body shaking with silent sobs. I cried too, but this time, they were tears of disbelief, of joy, of a miracle I never dared hope for .

We had lost so much, endured so much pain. But in that moment, it felt like Lukyan was still with us, still looking out for us, sending us these two new lives, like a gift wrapped in the love we had for him.

And as I look down at my growing belly now, I can't help but think—maybe, just maybe, some miracles are born from the very depths of our heartache.

"Yes," Alexsei murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Lukyan. For everything."

I pressed my lips to Lukyan's stone one final time, the coolness of the granite grounding me. Hand in hand, Alexsei and I walked back toward our home, the sun casting a soft glow over the garden where Poker ran ahead, barking joyfully, as if sensing the peace we were finally making with our past.

Once inside, we collapsed onto the couch, legs naturally tangling together. Alexsei's hand drifted to my swollen belly, gently rubbing as the twins shifted within me, their tiny kicks like whispers of the future we had fought so hard to claim.

"Angelo's coming for dinner tonight," Alexsei said, a trace of laughter in his voice. "Jade's driving him up the wall. I think this time he might actually snap and fire her."

I smiled faintly. "I don't get it. She seems so sweet. I wonder what it is about her that pushes him so far?"

Alexsei shrugged lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Some secrets are better left unsaid, moya solnyshka ."

And in that moment, I knew he was right.

Some secrets weren't meant to be uncovered, just like some sins couldn't be undone.

But for Alexsei and I, those same sinful games we had played—the lies, the betrayals, the darkness we both endured—they had led us here, to this moment, to the life we never thought we could have. They had brought us love, salvation, and the promise of a future filled with both joy and the bittersweet memories of what we'd survived.

As I lay against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, I understood that not all rewards come wrapped in light. Some are born from shadows, forged in the fires of loss and redemption.

And in the end, it didn't matter how sinful our games had been.

Because they had given us everything—our greatest blessings, our second chances.

They had led us home.

THE END.