Chapter Seventeen - Epilogue — In Bloom
Expanded with Love Scene
The café was closed for the night.
The city whispered in shadows outside the windows, and Hazel stood in her kitchen, tying back her hair, eyes half-lidded from the long day.
Henry stepped behind her, arms slipping around her waist.
He smelled like expensive cologne and home.
"You're tired," he said against her neck.
"A little."
"Let me carry it with you."
She turned in his arms.
"I've missed you," she whispered.
"I never left."
He kissed her — slowly, deeply, like they had all the time in the world.
And they did.
In their bedroom, the world faded.
Clothes fell in soft sighs.
Hazel lay back on their bed, the moon catching in her hair, her body glowing with the quiet strength of motherhood, of survival, of love that had aged like wine.
Henry worshiped her.
He kissed down her neck, lingered at the curve of her breasts, his mouth reverent.
When he slid between her thighs, he looked up at her like she was something holy.
She gasped when his tongue met her — gentle, knowing, slow.
She curled around the sheets, moaning his name like a lullaby.
He took his time.
And when he finally slid into her, it was not fast or rough — it was deep and aching, like coming home.
Their bodies moved in rhythm — a language written in sweat and breath.
Her hands gripped his back, nails soft, mouth parted.
He whispered things he couldn't say in daylight.
That she saved him.
That he was still broken, but she made the cracks beautiful.
That she was everything he never deserved, but would spend forever worshiping.
When they came, it wasn't loud — it was a wave. A surrender. A shared silence that echoed louder than any moan.
Later, she lay against his chest, drawing circles on his skin.
"Still full?" she teased.
"Of you," he murmured.
She smiled. "Good. I plan to keep filling you."
And in the morning, they woke to the sound of tiny feet and giggles.
The twins burst in — River with a cape, Siena with glitter in her hair.
Hazel sat up, hair tangled, heart full.
Henry pulled her back down and kissed her again.
Because some love begins in fire.
And some love becomes the fire.
And theirs?
It never stopped burning.