Ten years since their wedding day.
The garden was alive with soft music, fairy lights swaying gently in the breeze, and laughter echoing through the late summer air. It was Hope's seventh birthday, and the Byrne household was buzzing with energy. Brielle stood by the refreshments table, watching as Finnigan chased Caleb—now five—around the backyard, both of them armed with water guns.
"Careful, Daddy's got a good aim!" Hope warned, giggling behind a bush, her ladybird-themed dress flaring as she dashed for cover.
Brielle shook her head, smiling fondly. "Boys," she muttered under her breath, sipping her lemonade.
"Are you talking about me again?" Finnigan grinned as he approached, shirt damp, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Always," she said, handing him a towel.
The guests began to leave just before sunset. Brielle and Finnigan sat side by side on the patio swing, watching their children play barefoot in the grass, glowing under the golden hour light. Everything felt exactly as it should be.
"I still remember the day I thought I lost you," Brielle murmured.
Finnigan reached for her hand. "You didn't. You found me, eventually."
She turned to him with a soft smile. "You were always mine. I was just too scared to believe love could feel... this safe."
He kissed the back of her hand. "It took time, but we made it."
"And I'd choose you all over again. Even if it meant going through all of it. Every fight, every tear, every kiss."
Finnigan rested his forehead against hers. "You gave me everything. A home. A family. Hope."
Brielle chuckled, her eyes shifting to their daughter. "And Hope gave us chaos."
"Beautiful chaos," he added.
As twilight settled in and fireflies began to dance, Caleb crawled into Brielle's lap, already sleepy, while Hope curled beside Finnigan, her tiny hand tucked into his.
There was no need for more words.
Because in the quiet of their backyard, under the soft hum of love and laughter, everything they had fought for was right there.
They didn't just fall in love.
They grew it.
And they were still growing.
Love, eventually... always.
Write a comment ...