Chapter 85

• The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls of their farmhouse. Outside, a gentle snow fell, blanketing the world in a soft, white hush. Inside, Cleo and Rowan sat close, wrapped in a patchwork quilt, the warmth of the fire and each other a comforting embrace against the winter chill. Cleo traced the lines of Rowan’s hand with her fingertip, her touch lingering on the calluses that spoke of his hard work, his dedication. He leaned his head against hers, the scent of pine and woodsmoke mingling with the subtle fragrance of her lavender perfume. Silence settled between them, a comfortable silence filled with unspoken understanding, a testament to the years they had spent rebuilding their lives, their love.
• It had been five years since they had escaped the clutches of Cleo’s abusive husband, five years since they had found solace and refuge in Seabrook. Five years of building a life together, a life founded on the rubble of their shattered pasts, a life sculpted by their shared resilience and unwavering commitment. Five years of healing, of forgiveness, of rediscovering the joys of life, the beauty of love.
• Cleo looked into Rowan’s eyes, the deep pools reflecting the firelight and the boundless love that shone within them. She saw not only the man she had loved years ago, the man she had lost, but also the man he had become – stronger, wiser, more deeply rooted in his own sense of self. He had overcome his own demons, faced his own past traumas, and emerged a man capable of giving and receiving love unconditionally.