Chapter 214: Chapter Two Hundred and Fourteen

Chapter Two Hundred and Fourteen

Malachi’s POV

"Dinner’s ready," Alicia called softly. "Think you can transfer her to the bassinet without waking her?"

"I can try."

I stood slowly, carefully, my hand supporting Lia’s head while her body rested against my chest. Made my way to the bassinet we kept in the living room for exactly these situations. Lowered her down with the kind of precision I used to reserve for handling explosives, watching her face for any sign of waking.

She settled into the soft mattress without so much as a whimper. Her arms stretched up above her head in that adorable way babies slept. Her mouth made tiny sucking motions even in sleep.

"Success," I whispered to Alicia.

"You’re getting good at this."

"I’m getting better at this. There’s a difference."

We ate dinner quickly, both of us keeping one eye on the bassinet in case Lia woke up demanding attention. Alicia told me about the meeting with the lawyer, about how the foundation was officially a registered nonprofit now, about how she’d already started reaching out to women’s shelters to see who might be interested in partnering.

"I got our first donation too," she said, her eyes bright with excitement. "An anonymous donor sent fifty thousand dollars with a note saying they’d been in an abusive relationship once and wanted to help other women escape."

"That’s incredible."

"It is. It means we can actually start operating, can actually help women instead of just planning to help them." She paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "I know this is going to take time away from Lia. From us. From our family. And I know that’s a sacrifice—"

"Stop," I interrupted gently. "This isn’t a sacrifice. This is you being the woman I fell in love with. The fighter who refuses to let bad things that happened to her define her entire life. The survivor who wants to help other survivors. I’m proud of you, Alicia. So proud I can barely put it into words."

Tears filled her eyes, and she set down her fork to reach across the table and take my hand. "I love you. So much. More than I knew it was possible to love anyone."

"I love you too. Both of you." I nodded toward Lia, still sleeping peacefully in her bassinet. "You and our daughter are everything that matters. Everything else is just details we’ll figure out as we go."

"Even when she cries for two hours straight?"

"Even then. Especially then, because those are the moments that prove we’re in this together, that we’re partners in every way that counts."

Lia made a sound, and we both turned to look at her. She yawned, stretched, and then settled back into sleep without fully waking.

"She’s so beautiful," Alicia said softly. "Sometimes I look at her and can’t believe we made her. Can’t believe something so perfect came from something as messy and complicated as us."

"She got the best parts of both of us," I said. "Your strength and your compassion and your stubbornness. My determination and my loyalty and my inability to quit once I’ve committed to something."

"And your eyes. She definitely got your eyes."

"We don’t know that yet. They could still change."

"They won’t. I can tell. She’s going to look at the world with your eyes and see things I never could. See the darkness and the light and everything in between and not be afraid of any of it."

"I hope she sees more light than darkness," I said quietly. "I hope we give her a life where the darkness is minimal, where she grows up safe and loved and never has to know the things we knew."

"We will. We are. Look at what we’re building here. Look at this life. It’s nothing like what either of us had growing up. It’s better. So much better."

She was right. This life, this family, this partnership was everything I’d never known I wanted until I found her crying in my dark room and realized that darkness didn’t have to be permanent, that light was possible if you were willing to fight for it.

And we had fought. Through impossible circumstances and dangerous people and our own fears and doubts. We’d fought and survived and built something beautiful from the wreckage of our pasts.

The foundation was just the next step. Helping others fight their way out of darkness the way we had. Giving them the tools and support and hope they needed to build their own beautiful lives from their own wreckage.

"We should probably sleep while she’s sleeping," Alicia said, glancing at the clock. "She’ll be up in a few hours wanting to eat."

"You go ahead. I’ll clean up and bring her up when I come to bed."

"You sure?"

"Positive. You had a full day of meetings. I had a full day of baby wrestling. We both need rest, but you need it more."

She kissed me before heading upstairs, a long, slow kiss that reminded me why we’d created Lia in the first place, why we’d chosen each other despite everything that said we shouldn’t. When she finally pulled away, her eyes were soft and full of love that still amazed me every time I saw it.

"See you in bed," she said.

"See you in bed."

I cleaned the kitchen quietly, loaded the dishwasher, wiped down the counters, all while keeping one ear tuned to the bassinet in case Lia needed me. When everything was clean, I carefully lifted her, transferred her to the upstairs bassinet we kept beside our bed, and climbed in next to Alicia.

She was already half asleep, but she shifted closer when I slid under the covers, her body seeking mine out even in unconsciousness. I pulled her close, listened to Lia’s soft breathing from the bassinet, and thought about how far we’d come from that dark room.

This was everything. This quiet moment at the end of a challenging day. This family we’d built. This life we were living.

Everything.