Epilog

Maretto International Hospital, 3:12 AM

The cries of a newborn echoed through the delivery room—a sound that shattered the silence and forever changed two souls who now held each other tightly. Arabella lay weak but glowing, tears shimmering in her eyes as a nurse approached, cradling a tiny baby wrapped in a soft blue blanket.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Arabella. It’s a boy. Healthy and strong.”

Tears spilled down Arabella’s cheeks as she reached out with trembling hands to touch the newborn’s delicate face. Harry stood beside her, eyes locked on the tiny life that had just become the center of their world.

“He looks like you,” Arabella whispered.

Harry shook his head gently, his eyes reddened with emotion. “No. He’s perfect. He’s… ours.”

The nurse carefully placed the baby into Arabella’s arms. The little one stirred, opened his eyes just a sliver, then drifted back to sleep—peaceful and content.

“Do you have a name?” the nurse asked with a smile.

Harry and Arabella exchanged a knowing look. They had talked about this name for months.

“Alaric Edwin Anderson,” Harry said, voice firm and proud.

Arabella smiled, her gaze soft. “Alaric… It means leader. Just like his father. Just like his grandfather.”

Outside the nursery, Edwin Dahlan stood behind the observation glass, watching his grandson with quiet awe. Beside him stood Luna, her expression unreadable, and Helena, who looked genuinely moved.

Edwin gently squeezed Helena’s hand. Beneath his wise, aged face was a rare smile—full of gratitude and peace.

“Look, Hel… this is the true legacy. A whole, happy family,” he murmured.

Helena nodded, eyes glistening. “And he’ll grow up surrounded by love. Not pain… like before.”

Six Months Later

In the Anderson family’s private residence, golden morning sunlight poured through the wide windows of the living room. Little Alaric—now a chubby, wriggling baby with Arabella’s round eyes and Harry’s cheeky grin—had just woken up. And he was not happy about it.

“Sirens again,” Harry muttered, half-awake, his T-shirt stained with milk vomit number… who knew anymore. He groaned, rolled off the sofa, and scooped Alaric into his arms as the baby began flailing like a miniature ninja.

“Shhh… Daddy’s here, buddy,” he whispered nervously, holding him in what may or may not have been a proper position. “Ssshh… Don’t wake Mommy, okay?”

Too late.

The bedroom door creaked open. Arabella appeared in an old maternity dress that was now slightly too snug—her body hadn’t fully returned to its pre-baby shape—but she was still stunning, even with her hair sticking up like a lioness just dragged out of bed.

“Harry… are you trying to feed Alaric a water bottle?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

Harry looked down. Sure enough, he had been pressing his own drinking bottle to the baby’s lips.

“Oh my God…” he laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry, Bel… I’m still half-dreaming.”

Arabella shook her head, laughing. She took Alaric into her arms, settling down at the kitchen table with the baby at her breast, all while typing replies to urgent emails from major Edwin Corporation clients on her glowing laptop screen.

Harry watched her with nothing but admiration.

“You’re a CEO, a mom, a wife, and a full-on superhero all in one.”

Arabella smirked. “Of course. And you’re a great dad too. Even if you keep wiping the counter with baby diapers.”

Harry laughed out loud, then leaned in and kissed her forehead.

– The End –

Noted 

Hey, dear readers of Arabella!

Thank you so much for following this story all the way through. I'm truly sorry for the irregular updates—life threw a few curveballs along the way.

I hope the ending brought you satisfaction, and fingers crossed I can be more consistent with future projects. Your support means the world to me!

See you in the next story! 💖

— Arabella’s Author