Alex gave a faint smile. “It only took me six years to learn.”
Elena turned back toward the stove. “Do you want another cup?”
“Just tea?”
“Just tea, Alex.”
Alex accepted.
Neither of them called it a romantic reconciliation. Neither promised another wedding. They didn’t have to. For the first time, neither of them was making choices because of fear, guilt, family pressure, or the desperate need to fill an empty house.
In the next room, four children slept peacefully among scattered toys, drawing pads, and a half-finished racetrack.
Alex looked at the beautiful mess and finally understood the truth he had failed to see for half his life.
Building a family had never been about securing an heir or demanding perfection. It was about choosing to stay when the house stopped being easy.
