This didn't surprise me. Lewis had mentioned it long ago, in the quiet aftermath of watching me nearly bleed out following the twins' birth — his voice low and certain, carrying that unshakable Alpha finality that meant the decision was already made and wouldn't be revisited. He had sworn he would never put me through that kind of pain again.
That was fine. We already had Everett and Everly, and I had no regrets left worth carrying.
I placed the document back exactly where I found it and pretended I had never seen it.
The wedding dress had been altered multiple times by now. I was even thinner than I'd been before the twins came, and no amount of careful eating or rest over these past months had fully returned me to what I once was. Something had shifted in me permanently — not broken exactly, just changed in the way certain experiences change you, rearranging what's underneath without announcing it.
