Mornings smelled like fresh coffee. Chris always rose first, moving quietly around the kitchen with rolled-up sleeves. By the time Susan stirred, he was already handing her a mug.
"You should be resting," she whispered once, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
"Careful," he said, brushing her hand as she took it. "It's hot."
It wasn't the coffee that warmed her.
Afternoons found him sprawled on the floor, Leah perched on his stomach, babbling happily. His laugh filled the room, unguarded, boyish. Susan froze in the doorway, watching him. He looked like a father. He looked like hers. And against her will, she smiled.
Evenings were the most dangerous.
Dinner, laughter, teasing about burnt toast or lumpy pasta. Chris reading fairy tales in that deep, steady voice that soothed Leah and Susan, though she would never admit it. Nights ended with them side by side on the couch, silence heavy with things unsaid.
One night, she broke first.
"Why do you always stay up?" she asked softly, curling her legs under her.
Chris looked at her, eyes tired but gentle. "Because I'm afraid I'll wake up and you'll be gone."
Her chest tightened. He wasn't looking at her like a man who wanted to control her. He was looking at her like she was his salvation.
Susan's fingers twitched on the cushion. She reached for him at last, her hand trembling as it found his.
"Chris… I heard what you said to your aunt. I'm sorry. For doubting you. For making you think I'd take Leah away. For all of it." Her voice cracked, but she held on to his hand tighter. "Let's stop running. Let's live as we want. Together."
He nodded, silent, his grip firm like he was afraid letting go would undo it all.
Susan stood moonlight catching in her hair. She told herself she came for air. Truth was, she was waiting.
She didn't wait long.
Chris's presence settled beside her before he spoke. His hand brushed the railing. Not touching her, just close.
"You're quiet," he murmured.
"You always say that."
"Because you always are. But tonight… you feel different."
Her throat tightened. "Different how?"
"Like you're not running anymore."
She turned, meeting his gaze. Steady. Raw.
"I found where I belong," she whispered. "I may not fit perfectly, but I don't want to leave."
Chris inhaled sharply. He didn't move until her hand rose, hesitant, and touched his jaw. His eyes closed, leaning into her palm like it was salvation.
That was all it took.
The kiss began soft. Testing. But when Susan sighed against his lips, when her fingers curled in his shirt, Chris broke.
He kissed her like a man starved, yet careful, reverent. Every move asked a question. Every answer came in the way she pulled him closer.
Her breath was hot against his skin as she whispered, "I don't want to think tonight. I just want you."
Chris stilled. His forehead pressed to hers. "Susan… are you sure?"
Her eyes shone. "I've never been surer."
He carried her inside, laughter muffled in kisses when he nearly tripped over a chair. For the first time in months, it wasn't anger. It was joy.
The bed took them gently. His hands were slow, memorizing, every kiss an apology and a vow. She pulled him closer, desperate.
"Stop treating me like I'll break," she breathed. "Just love me."
"Always," he whispered.
When he finally moved inside her, it wasn't wild it was reverent. Every thrust a confession. Every touch a promise. He held her hand the whole time, forehead pressed to hers, whispers spilling between her gasps.
Their release came together, trembling. But even after, he didn't let her go.
Susan curled into him, her tears damp on his chest, her body warm against his. For the first time in forever, she didn't feel like she was fighting gravity. She felt home.
"Don't let me go again," she whispered.
"Never," he swore, absolute.
And this time, she believed him.
Susan felt nervous meeting Michael again he had almost died because of her, but the moment she walked in, his arms wrapped her in a bear hug like nothing had changed. Leah quickly became his favourite person in the room, giggling in his arms as if she'd known him forever.
That night, Susan slipped onto the balcony, staring at the night sky. The cool air filled her lungs, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions inside her.
"Susan?" Chris's voice broke the quiet.
She turned, caught in the warmth of his gaze. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
Instead of answering, he slid his arms around her from behind, pulling her into his chest and inhaling her scent. She relaxed into him, the tension easing from her shoulders.
"I have a surprise for you," he murmured against her neck, his breath tickling her skin.
She giggled despite herself. "What is it?"
"It's a surprise," he teased, kissing her softly before tugging her toward the bedroom.
The next morning, they piled into the car together Leah babbling in her car seat, Chris's hand resting at the small of Susan's back, his touch constant since their reconciliation.
Her brow furrowed when the gates opened onto a long driveway. At the end stood a stunning house with white pillars, glass windows, and soft curtains hiding the warmth inside.
"No way," she whispered.
Chris only smiled, unbuckling Leah. "Come see your new home, baby."
Michael appeared in the doorway, grinning as he welcomed them. The tour felt like walking through a dream, a family dream. Every detail was thought of, down to the childproofed corners and the backyard perfect for laughter and play.
Susan broke, sobbing into Chris's chest while Michael wandered off with Leah.
"Do you like it?" Chris asked softly.
She could only nod, tears wetting his shirt.
The move was messy in the best way. Michael barked orders at movers while Chris rolled his eyes. Susan laughed watching them, her chest aching with a happiness she'd never thought she'd feel.
That night, boxes still unopened, they ate takeout on the floor. Leah refused to sleep, fascinated by her new crib. At midnight, Susan laughed until tears blurred her eyes as Chris cursed at an Allen wrench while Michael tried not to smirk.
It was ordinary. Chaotic. Perfect.
Days became a rhythm.
Chris burning toast and pretending it was intentional. Susan unpacking Leah's tiny clothes. Evenings curled on the couch, Leah asleep upstairs, Chris's hand always tangled with hers.
For the first time, it felt like home.
The proposal came quietly.
Michael had just left, Leah finally asleep. Susan stood on the porch under a blanket of stars. Chris joined her, wrapping his arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder.
"You once told me you didn't fit in my world," he whispered.
"I remember," she murmured.
He turned her gently, his eyes steady, searching. "I want you to know, without a doubt… you belong here. With me. With Leah. Always."
Her heart thudded as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. The diamond glimmered in the porch light.
Susan's lips parted, trembling.
"I don't deserve you," Chris whispered, voice breaking. "But I'll spend the rest of my life proving I do. Marry me, Susan. Not because I can buy you a life but because I can't live mine without you in it."
Tears spilled freely. She touched his face with shaking hands. "Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Yes, Chris. A thousand times yes."
Relief crashed over him. He slid the ring onto her finger and kissed her like forever was already theirs.
Behind them, Leah stirred in her crib, her soft sigh carrying through the monitor like a blessing.
Susan's tears wet his lips as she whispered, "We finally made it home."
Chris's voice was steady, certain. "We always were. I just had to fight my way back."
EPILOGUE
One Year Later
The house smelled like sugar and vanilla. Balloons floated on the ceiling, a banner stretched across the living room: Happy 2nd Birthday, Leah!
Susan arranged cupcakes, hair tied back, cheeks flushed. A year ago, she'd been drowning in fear. Now she was fussing over sprinkles.
Chris slid his arms around her waist, kissing her temple. "Relax. Everything's perfect."
She shot him a look. "Says the man who didn't fight with the banner for two hours."
He smirked. "I think you won. I don't know why you insisted on doing it yourself" he mumbled and she was ready to counter him but.
Leah squealed as Michael carried her in, icing on her cheeks, a tiny crown on her head. "Somebody found the cupcakes early," he deadpanned.
Susan gasped, laughing. "Michael!"
"She's a Lopez," he shrugged. "Strong survival instincts."
Chris chuckled, kissing Leah's messy cheek like it was his greatest honour. Susan's heart clenched not with pain, but with joy.
Later, when the candles were blown and laughter echoed, Susan stepped out onto the porch. Chris joined her, sliding his hand into hers, their rings glinting in the soft light.
"We made it," he murmured.
Her smile trembled. "We did."
He kissed her slow and certain. "Happy birthday to Leah… and to us."
And for the first time, Susan didn't fear forever.
Forever was here.
Forever was home.
The house was quiet after the party, faint traces of frosting and laughter still lingering in the air.
Chris stood in the doorway of Leah's nursery, watching her tiny chest rise and fall, her fist still clutching the edge of her blanket as though she had fought to stay awake until the very end.
His heart clenched.
There had been a time he thought he'd never see this her first birthday, Susan smiling in their home, the sound of family echoing through walls that weren't cold and empty. For months, he had lived with the weight of almost losing them. Twice. First to his own pride. Then to a bullet meant to end him.
And yet, here they were. His miracle.
Chris stepped quietly into the nursery, pressing a kiss to Leah's crown, breathing in the sweet scent of baby powder and vanilla frosting. "Happy birthday, princess," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.
When he turned, Susan was in the doorway, arms folded, watching him with soft eyes. She didn't speak. She didn't have to. Her smile told him everything he'd ever needed to know.
He walked to her, lacing his fingers with hers, grounding himself in the reality that she was here. That she chose to stay. That despite every mistake, every scar, every battle they had found their way back.
For years, Chris had thought love was weakness. That caring meant giving people the power to destroy you. But with Susan's hand in his, Leah's soft breath filling the room, he finally understood. Love wasn't weakness.
It was the only thing that had saved him.
Chris kissed Susan's forehead; his voice low, reverent, certain.
"You're my home. Both of you. Always."
And this time, he knew forever wasn't just a promise.
It was real.
It was here. It was theirs.