Chapter 26 – Chosen, Again and Again

There was something sacred about the quiet after laughter.

The house had finally settled.

Aria was asleep, one arm flung dramatically over her pillow, her chest rising and falling in soft, even breaths. Aiden lay curled on his side in the next room, clutching Bunny like a lifeline, his face relaxed in a way Damien had never seen before.

Not guarded.

Not wary.

At peace.

Damien stood in the hallway for a long moment, watching his son sleep.

“You did that,” he murmured.

May stood beside him, her shoulder brushing his. “He did it himself. I just… stayed.”

Damien turned to look at her then.

Really look.

The soft cotton dress she’d changed into. Her hair loose, no longer controlled for the world. The faint shadows beneath her eyes—proof of strength, not weakness.

For the first time in his life, Damien felt something terrifyingly unfamiliar.

Home.

They moved to the living room without speaking, as though sound might break whatever fragile magic wrapped around them. The lights were low, only the glow from the city outside painting patterns on the walls.

May sat on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her.

Damien hesitated.

She noticed.

“You don’t have to be careful with me,” she said quietly.

He sat—close enough that their knees touched.

“That’s the problem,” he replied just as softly. “I want to be.”

The words settled between them, heavy with meaning.

“Do you know what scared me the most today?” Damien asked after a while.

May shook her head.

“That I almost lost this,” he said. “Without realizing it existed.”

She turned to him fully now. “You didn’t lose it.”

“No,” he agreed. “You protected it.”

Silence stretched.

Then May spoke, voice steady but honest. “I didn’t plan to let you this close.”

Damien’s brow creased. “Why not?”

“Because every time I trusted someone before,” she said, “I paid for it in blood, or loss, or grief.”

His chest tightened.

“And yet,” she continued, “you keep showing up. For Aiden. For Aria. For me.”

He swallowed. “I don’t know how to do this halfway.”

Her lips curved faintly. “Neither do I.”

They leaned in slowly—giving each other space to pull away.

Neither did.

Their kiss was unhurried. No hunger. No urgency.

Just warmth.

Damien’s hand came up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek with reverence, as though she were something precious instead of someone fierce.

When they parted, May rested her forehead against his.

“I feel safe with you,” she whispered.

The words hit him harder than desire ever could.

“I swear to you,” he said, voice rough, “I will never be the man who makes you regret saying that.”

She believed him.

That was the most dangerous part.

Later, they found themselves in the kitchen, barefoot, sharing leftover dessert straight from the pan like conspirators.

“This is probably illegal,” Damien said dryly.

May laughed softly. “Relax. Lily isn’t here to judge us.”

The mention of her sister brought a gentle smile to May’s face.

“She messaged earlier,” May said. “She’s staying the night at her friend’s hostel. Said we should ‘enjoy our domestic moment.’”

Damien snorted. “Smart woman.”

They leaned against the counter, shoulders touching.

“May,” he said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder how different things would’ve been… if I’d known?”

She considered it.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But then I look at who you are now. Who Aiden is now. And I think… timing matters.”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t want to waste it.”

“Then don’t,” she said simply.

They returned to the couch, this time closer. May rested her head against his shoulder without thinking.

Damien froze.

Then—carefully—wrapped his arm around her.

The gesture was simple.

But it felt monumental.

He could feel her breathing. Steady. Calm.

“You don’t pull away,” he murmured.

“Why would I?” she replied. “You’re not hurting me.”

His grip tightened—just slightly.

“I will spend the rest of my life making sure of that.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. “That sounds like a promise.”

“It is.”

Their lips met again, deeper this time. Not rushed—never rushed—but layered with something stronger.

Commitment.

When Damien kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, May closed her eyes—not from weakness, but from trust.

No one had ever touched her like this.

As if she mattered beyond what she could endure.

Much later, when the clock crept past midnight, they checked on the children again.

Aiden stirred briefly when May tucked the blanket around him.

“Mum…?” he murmured.

She brushed his hair back. “I’m here.”

He smiled faintly and fell back asleep.

Damien watched from the doorway, something breaking open quietly in his chest.

“She chooses you even in sleep,” he said.

May turned to him. “So do you.”

He didn’t deny it.

In the master bedroom, they stood awkwardly for a moment—two people who wanted more but respected the moment too much to rush it.

“This doesn’t have to mean—” Damien began.

“I know,” May interrupted gently. “But it does mean something.”

He nodded.

They lay side by side, fully clothed, a careful distance between them—until May reached for his hand.

He interlaced their fingers without hesitation.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

And for the first time in years, Damien slept without armor.

Morning came softly.

Sunlight spilled across the room. Damien woke first, disoriented for half a second—then aware of May beside him.

Still there.

Still warm.

Still real.

He didn’t touch her. Just watched her breathe.

When she stirred, her eyes met his.

No panic.

No regret.

Just quiet understanding.

“Good morning,” she said.

His voice was low. “Good morning.”

Down the hall, Aria’s laughter rang out as Aiden joined her, their voices blending easily.

May smiled. “They sound happy.”

Damien squeezed her hand. “So do we.”

And in that moment—no contracts, no legacies, no threats—just a man and a woman who had chosen each other, again and again.

Not because it was easy.

But because it was real.