Mai's P.O.V.
If someone had told me years ago that this would be my reality—wrapped in Liam's arms, limbs tangled like ivy, sunlight pouring through lace curtains in our house—I would've laughed in their face and probably flashed a bit of fang. Not because I didn't crave it, but because it felt like some fairytale I wasn't meant to star in. Back then, love felt like a language I wasn't allowed to speak, especially not with the boy I'd once burned—literally and figuratively.
But here we were. Not broken. Not dreaming. Just… real. Whole. Unapologetically happy.
A year since our mating ceremony, and somehow, I was living the dream—with the boy who once ran from my shadow and now runs his fingers through my hair like I'm the safest place he's ever known.
"Did we die?" Liam murmured beside me, his voice thick with sleep and something sweeter—peace.
