Chapter 23 – Where He Belongs

The first night Aiden stayed over, he didn’t ask when he was going back.

That alone told May everything.

She stood at the doorway of the guest room—now quietly, instinctively becoming his room—watching as Aria arranged her stuffed animals around him with great seriousness.

“You can have Bunny,” Aria said generously. “He protects people when they sleep.”

Aiden hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you.”

May’s chest tightened.

Children always knew where they felt safe.

And Aiden had chosen.

Downstairs, Lily set tea on the table and glanced toward the staircase.

“He hasn’t looked over his shoulder once,” she murmured.

May sank into the chair opposite her. “He’s been holding his breath for too long.”

Lily reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

“Sis… he’s home.”

The word home settled deep in May’s bones.

Damien arrived just after nine.

Not in a rush.

Not defensive.

Just… quiet.

He stood in the living room, hands in his pockets, eyes lifting toward the staircase.

“He fell asleep already,” May said softly.

Damien nodded. “He usually doesn’t.”

That hurt more than anger ever could.

They sat together on the couch, a careful distance between them—until Damien spoke again.

“He doesn’t want to go back,” he said.

May didn’t pretend surprise. “I know.”

Silence.

Then Damien turned to her, eyes stripped of titles, power, legacy—everything except honesty.

“Let him stay,” he said. “With you.”

May’s breath caught.

“He needs peace,” Damien continued. “And right now… you’re the only place he finds it.”

She searched his face for hesitation.

Found none.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

“I’m his father,” Damien said. “And this is me choosing him.”

Something unknotted inside her chest.

“Then he stays,” she said. “As long as he wants.”

Upstairs, Aiden woke briefly, disoriented.

“Mum…?” he whispered.

May appeared instantly, sitting beside him.

“I’m here.”

He hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting behind his eyes for days.

“I don’t have to go back, do I?”

She brushed his hair back gently. “No, sweetheart. You don’t.”

His shoulders sagged in relief.

And just like that—he slept.

This time, deeply.

The shift was immediate.

Mornings became lighter.

Aiden laughed more. Ate more. Spoke more.

And Damien noticed.

He noticed how May never hovered, never pushed—just existed beside him, steady and warm.

One morning, he found them at the kitchen counter: Aria explaining her drawings, Aiden listening like they were sacred texts, May leaning between them with quiet amusement.

The sight stopped him cold.

This wasn’t borrowed peace.

This was family.

At the hospital café later that day, Sophia slid into a seat beside May, David following with four cups of coffee.

“You look different,” Sophia said immediately.

David nodded. “Happier.”

May smiled faintly. “Fuller.”

Damien joined them moments later, loosening his tie.

The table felt… right.

Conversation flowed easily—about work, patients, Lily’s college, the kids’ antics.

At some point, David leaned back and said thoughtfully,

“You know… most people don’t survive storms like the one circling you.”

Sophia added softly, “But you don’t face it alone anymore.”

May met Damien’s eyes.

Something warm passed between them.

Unspoken.

Unmistakable.

That evening, after the children were asleep, Damien found May on the balcony.

City lights stretched endlessly below them.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “Take on my mess.”

May didn’t look at him. “He’s not a mess.”

Damien stepped closer. “You didn’t have to take me, either.”

She finally turned.

“I’m not taking you,” she said. “I’m choosing you.”

The words landed softly—but they changed everything.

He reached out, slow, giving her time to pull away.

She didn’t.

His hand covered hers.

No rush.

No fire.

Just warmth—steady and real.

“I don’t want to rush us,” Damien said. “But I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel this either.”

May’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Neither do I.”

They stood there, hands entwined, the future uncertain—but no longer frightening.

Upstairs, Lily watched from the doorway, smiling to herself.

Her sister had carried the world long enough.

It was time someone carried her too.