The sunlight spilled lazily through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that almost convinced me mornings could be kind again.
I blinked awake to the weight of a small arm draped across my chest. Gwen, her hair a wild tangle of curls, was still asleep beside me, her lips parted, her tiny breaths even and warm.
The door creaked open, and there he was–Martin–balancing a tray with exaggerated care. “Room service,” he announced, grinning as he set it down on the bed. “Special delivery: pancakes with too much syrup, fruit slices cut into stars, and-” he leaned closer to Gwen, whispering, “chocolate milk, because only princesses drink that in the morning.“”
Gwen’s eyes fluttered open at his voice. She sat up, still groggy, but when she spotted the tray, her entire face lit up. “For me?“! “For both of you,” Martin said, sliding onto the bed. He handed her the chocolate milk like it was a crown, and she giggled before gulping it down.”
I watched them, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. For so long, I’d felt like I was holding the weight of the world alone, but mornings like this–watching Martin joke with Gwen, watching her lean into him without hesitation–gave me hope.
“Thank you,” I murmured, meeting his eyes.
He winked. “What are dads for?“}
The word still struck something in me–bittersweet, fragile–but Gwen giggled again and leaned against his arm. Slowly, carefully, she was letting him in.
The weeks passed quickly after that. Gwen was set to start a new class, her first real step into a normal life after everything she’d endured. I busied myself preparing, shopping for uniforms, notebooks, pencils–everything she could possibly need.” At the mall, she skipped between Martin and me, her small hands tugging ours as if to keep us tethered. “Look, Mama, Daddy Martin! This one’s pink!” she squealed, holding up a backpack twice her size.
“Pink is a warrior’s color,” Martin declared, nodding seriously. “I approve.”
Gwen laughed, and I laughed too, though deep down, my heart ached with quiet guilt. Leandro should have been here too. He should have been the one holding her other hand. But he wasn’t–and maybe never would be again.”
So I swallowed the ache, tightened my grip on Gwen, and reminded myself that what mattered now was giving her peace.
A few days later, Martin told us he had a surprise. “Dress nice,” he said with a sly smile. “It’s a date.”
I assumed dinner. Maybe a walk under the stars. Something simple. But when the car pulled up to a quiet building in the city and Martin led us inside, I frowned in confusion.
“Where are we?” I asked, holding Gwen’s hand as she skipped ahead.
“You’ll see.“”
He pressed a key into my palm when we reached the fifth floor, guiding me toward a door at the end of the hall. My pulse quickened.
When I pushed it open, froze.
It was a studio unit–spacious, filled with light, its walls bare but waiting. In the corner, propped against the wall, was an easel. Brushes. Paint. A small desk scattered with fresh canvases.
I pressed a hand to my lips. “Martin… what is this?”
“A place that’s yours,” he said quietly. “For you and Gwen. For you to breathe. To paint again.”
The word stung. Paint. I hadn’t picked up a brush in years–not since Leandro told me to stop, told me to focus on family instead of wasting time. I had believed him, convinced myself that sacrificing my dreams was what a good wife did.”
But standing here now, with Gwen already twirling in the open space, her laughter bouncing off the walls, I realized how much of myself I had buried.”
“I don’t know if I can anymore,” I whispered.”
Martin stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. “Then let me believe in you until you can.”
Tears prickled my eyes, but before I could answer, Gwen ran up with a crayon she’d found on the desk. “Mama! Can I draw here? Please?”
I nodded, choking back the lump in my throat. “Yes, baby. This is our place now.”
Later, when Gwen had fallen asleep on the couch, Martin led me to the window. The city lights stretched out before us, endless and alive.
“I didn’t bring you here just for this,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
My breath caught when he knelt, opening a small velvet box. Inside was a ring–simple, elegant, glowing softly beneath the lamplight.
“Emerald,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes burning with something raw, “I’ve loved you longer than I ever admitted. I was
a fool before, but I know better now. You and Gwen–you’re my home. My family. Will you marry me?”
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12:16 PM PP.
“Emerald,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes burning with something raw, “I’ve loved you longer than I ever admitted. I was
a fool before, but I know better now. You and Gwen–you’re my home. My family. Will you marry me?“}
My lips parted, but no words came. My heart pounded, torn between the scars of the past and the promise of the future.
I looked at Gwen, sleeping peacefully, then back at Martin–the man who had stood by me, who had saved us when no one else did.”
And through the rush of doubt, I found myself whispering, “Yes.“”
The word trembled in the air, fragile but true.
Martin’s grin broke wide as he slipped the ring onto my finger, his hands shaking slightly. He kissed me, soft and certain, and for the first time in years, I felt like I was stepping into something new.
The shadows of the past lingered, but tonight, beneath the city lights, I chose this. I chose us.
A soft yawn broke the silence. Gwen rubbed her eyes as she sat up on the couch, her gaze drifting from me to Martin, then down to the ring gleaming on my hand. For a moment, she blinked, still half–asleep. Then her little mouth spread into a grin.” “Mama… Daddy Martin… are you getting married?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.”
Martin and I exchanged a look, laughter catching in our throats. I nodded, reaching out to her. “Yes, baby. We are.“”
Her eyes lit up like the stars outside, and she clapped her hands, bouncing on her tiny feet. “Really? Really?!” She rushed toward us, flinging her arms around both of our legs. “Yay! That means I get to have my family again! I’m so happy!“} Tears blurred my vision as I bent down and hugged her tight, her little arms squeezing around my neck. Martin leaned over, wrapping us both into his embrace. For the first time, the three of us stood together–no past, no ghosts, just the promise of something whole.
Gwen’s laughter rang out, pure and unbroken. “Now I won’t be lonely anymore,” she whispered against my shoulder.
