Page 121 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"I had their bodies moved," he continued, his eyes staring at nothing as he remembered. "To the village cemetery. We couldn't do the ghusl-the washing. It was too late for that. But I said the prayer. I placed a marker for both."
Her throat tightened, but her voice was steady. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all you could, Erjon. You saved my life. That's more than anyone could have asked."
His eyes shimmered. "I always wondered if you were alive. If you were safe."
"I am," she said. "Crispin...he's a good man. He loves me more than life. And the baby. He's been there through all of it."
He smiled. "You're happy?"
She nodded. "I am now."
A beat of time passed in a comfortable silence.
"I have two nephews and a niece I can't wait to meet."
He grinned. "They'll love you. And Elira's going to cry her eyes out when she sees you."
Silence reigned again as they sat with hands still clasped. It was the kind of lull that only comes after years of absence and the miracle of a return against all odds.
And in that moment, under the quiet night sky, the past didn't vanish, but it loosened its rigid grip just a little. And as the night unfolded, she sat between the man she loved and the brother she'd thought was lost forever, and all was well in her world as she cradled the child growing in her womb.
And after a long, long time, she felt whole.
Later that night, when the laughter had faded into echoes and the dishes were stacked in the kitchen, the house finally fell into hush.
Lule and Rahul had taken one of the guest bedrooms. Erjon had assumed they were married, and no one had bothered to correct him. Crispin had had another guest room readied for Erjon, freshly made with crisp linens and a handmade lavender sachet tucked under the pillow.
Outside, the patio was quiet. The November air, unusually warm, carried the scent of distant woodsmoke and damp leaves. Aria and Crispin sat on the swing, nestled together, the old chain creaking gently as Crispin set the rhythm with one foot on the ground, the other curled beneath him.
They were wrapped in a quilt Aria had made for them-a large patchwork of scarlet, ochre, and burnished gold, stitched with small embroidered squares, each one a moment from their journey.
A tiny grey square for the café where they'd first met for coffee.
A dark blue for the night he found her again.
A gold-edged square with the words "Twenty weeks: heartbeat like thunder."
A crimson patch sewn with "Sunset in Harlech."
Her hand rested in his, his thumb tracing the curve of the ring on her finger, the yellow sapphire glowing in the patio light.
"I love you," Aria whispered, her head nestled beneath his chin.
Crispin kissed her hair. "Love you, too," he murmured. "I've never been surer of anything."
They swung together for a while, wrapped in warmth and the hush of night.
"I want to marry you before the baby gets here," he said suddenly.
Aria looked up at him, her eyes glinting with quiet joy. "Okay," she said. "Can we do something small? Just family and a few friends."
He smiled. "Of course. Will tomorrow be too soon?"
She rolled her eyes. "Four weeks. I need to find a circus tent that fits."
"One."
"Three."
