Jora let out a low hum of amusement, eyes glinting with warmth. “Investigative, huh?” she echoed, tilting her head up to look at him with a teasing smirk. “You make it sound like I belong on a council of elders with scrolls and secrets.” She poked him lightly in the ribs. “You know I just like answers. I need to know things. Otherwise, my brain starts inventing every possible scenario, and most of them involve something exploding.”

His arms around her tightened slightly, and she melted into it, her smile softening into something deeper, steadier. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Even when we were apart. Even before I really knew why I missed you so much, I always felt... tethered. Like my heart knew something my head hadn’t caught up with yet.”

Her eyes closed for a second at the mention of another little one, her heart fluttering at the thought. “Mmh. I’ve been thinking about it too,” she admitted, quiet but sure. “Lyra would make a good big sister, don’t you think?” A faint chuckle rose in her throat. “She already tries to boss the gulls around.”

She shifted a little, pulling her knees closer and resting her chin on them. The sea stretched out before them, endless and ancient, and she felt the wind tangle her hair as Sage absentmindedly combed through it with his fingers. That touch grounded her more than anything else in the world.

“We’ll get through whatever comes next,” she said, voice barely above the breeze. “We’ve already weathered worse. And now we’ve got a whole house, and a porch, and a napping baby who’ll be running around screaming again in thirty minutes.” Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “And maybe... maybe even peace.”

She leaned her head into his shoulder again and whispered, “Thank you. For making this life with me.”

Jora let out a soft snort at his teasing, rolling her eyes but leaning into him all the same. “You say that now,” she murmured with a grin. “But if something actually explodes and it’s not you who has to clean it up, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’”

Her expression softened when he looked at her like that—when he spoke of imagining her as an adult. The grin he wore made her heart skip, and she raised a brow, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Oh? And what exactly did you picture?” she asked, voice light but curious.

Then he added that, and Jora flushed, swatting lightly at his chest with a laugh. “Sage!” she hissed under her breath, though her laugh gave away the fact that she wasn’t mad in the slightest. “Not on the porch, at least let me pretend we’re respectable.”

She leaned in, resting her hand over his heart, the beat steady beneath her palm. Her voice dropped to a quiet hum. “I’d like that though. To try. She deserves someone to grow up beside.” She smiled faintly.

As he spoke about their life, her eyes shimmered with emotion. “We did good,” she echoed quietly, voice a little thick. “You gave me a home, Sage. One I never thought I’d have again after… everything.”

She looked up at him, her eyes serious now, though still soft. “You’ve always been mine. Even when I didn’t know it yet. And now we have this… a family. A future. I don’t care what comes next as long as we face it together.”

Her fingers laced with his again, holding tight. “It’s all I ever wanted too.”

Jora couldn’t help but laugh softly, her head shaking in mock exasperation as she leaned against him. “Mmhm, ‘everyone does that,’” she echoed, smirking. “Says the man who still turns red when my mother looks at him too long.”

She smiled wider at the sound of his cackle, the kind of laugh that made her chest feel warm and full. She loved that sound. Loved how unguarded it was. And she loved that it was hers—that she got to pull it out of him when the world had tried so hard to silence it.

His description of how he’d imagined her made her cheeks flush, but her eyes sparkled. “You imagined all that?” she asked, clearly touched. “I think you gave me more credit than I deserved back then. But... thank you.” Her gaze softened as she added, “And you weren’t too far off from what I pictured either. I always thought you’d come back taller. Fiercer. But... I didn’t expect how gentle you’d be.”

Her voice dipped at that, full of affection. “I don’t mean weak. Just... the way you look at our daughter. The way you hold me at night when I’m too tired to breathe. You never needed to be scary to protect us. You just are, because you love us so hard nothing could move you.”

She squeezed his hand back as he finished, and her eyes lingered on the water for a long moment before turning up to him again. “No, we couldn’t have done it alone,” she murmured. “But I’m so glad it’s you I’m building with. I don’t want anything else.”

Her other hand came up to brush his cheek gently. “And when our next little one is here, I hope they have your heart.”

Jora smiled at his grumbled response, her eyes glinting with fondness. “She’s not scary, she’s just… observant. Like me.” Her grin widened. “Except I actually like watching you squirm.”

His gentle nudge made her laugh again, and she gave his side a teasing poke in retaliation. “You better blush more around me,” she teased. “Or I’ll have to work harder to make you flustered.”

She listened quietly as he spoke, her gaze softening as his words turned more serious. Bloody knuckles and shards of glass. She remembered what that used to look like. What he’d come from. “You deserved a chance to be soft,” she murmured. “And you earned it, Sage. You’ve done more than enough fighting.”

There was pride in her voice. Not just pride in what he’d overcome—but pride in the man he’d become in spite of it.

She turned her head slightly to follow his gaze, watching their home in the distance with him. The beach stretched wide and golden before them, the scent of salt in the air, the wind tugging at her hair and his shirt. “Hard to believe this is ours,” she whispered, her hand settling over his heart. “But it is. And no one’s taking it from us.”

Her thumb traced a slow arc across his chest as he leaned into her touch, his comment drawing a soft laugh from her. “That’s dangerous,” she hummed. “Fire and heart in the same tiny body? You better prepare yourself, Captain.”

And yet, even as she teased, her voice held a thread of something deeper—something certain. She wanted this with him. All of it. The children, the laughter, the messy life they’d carved into the coastline. The scars. The healing.

“You, me, Lyra… whoever comes next,” she said quietly, “we’re building something that lasts.”

And in that moment, there was no war, no running, no blood.

Just them. A family. Whole.

Jora laughed quietly at his first comment, her chin resting against his shoulder as she gave him a pointed look. “You saying I’m scary just adds to my power, you know,” she teased, voice low and amused. “The more you say it, the more I’ll have to live up to it.” There was mischief in her smile, but warmth too, the kind that came from knowing he wasn’t afraid—not of her. And never would be.

She reached out and toyed with the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing the soft fabric absentmindedly as he spoke. “You may not think you deserved it, but you chose it. You could’ve run. You’ve always been good at surviving. But you stayed,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to meet his. “That’s what makes it real.”

Her expression softened, a quiet pride glimmering there. She’d seen the bruised boy behind the bravado, the broken edges behind his grin. And still, he stayed. With her. With Lyra. With all the mess they’d tangled into a home.

“I wouldn’t change a thing either,” she added after a beat, her voice low and certain.

As he mentioned the baby again, she grinned. “Mm. He or she’ll have their work cut out for them,” she chuckled. “But they’ll be ours. Every stubborn, wild, beautiful piece of them.” Her hand found his again, fingers slipping between his. “I already know they’ll be loved more than they’ll ever understand.”

She tilted her head toward the ocean, letting the breeze tug through her hair. The scent of salt and driftwood curled in the air, the sound of waves rhythmic and grounding.

“Perfect,” she echoed, her voice no more than a whisper. “It really is.”

And in her heart, there was no doubt—about him, about them, or the future they were building one choice, one breath, one sunrise at a time.