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Walking slow. In all white, she looked like Cinderella or some shit. Like a miracle I didn’t deserve. Evelyn was in her arms, with a tiny flower crown on her head. My daughter, giggling. My wife-to-be. My life.

Next to them, walking tall and trying not to trip over his too-big dress shoes, was my twelve-year-old little brother, Malik. He was holding Zane’s bouquet. He was grinning hard, cheeks flushed, eyes locked on her like she hung the damn moon.

“He asked to walk with her,” my mama whispered to me earlier. “Said she looked like a goddess in that dress.”

“So fucking ready,” I finally answered my father, not taking my eyes off them.

If anybody had told me that catching my ex-wife fucking my neighbor would lead me to this, I’d have told you to shut the hell up.

But it did.

Because from the ashes of one phase of my life came the best thing that ever happened to me.

My family.

My peace.

My forever.

And nothing is taking them from me.

Not now.

Not ever.