Page 43

ALLY – THREE MONTHS LATER

The house is loud—and that's saying something. Our house is always loud and full of people. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yasmin's playlist is echoing through the walls, a blend of girl pop and old-school bangers. Chase is arguing with her over speaker privileges, yelling from the kitchen like he’s the head chef on a cooking show while putting even more food out. Martha has the day off, and I should be scared that Chase and Arden were in charge of the food today.

Arden is standing in front of the barbecue out back like he’s Gordon Ramsay himself, flipping sausages with exaggerated precision. Ella’s sprawled across one of the outdoor lounges, sunglasses on, sipping some sparkling water like a movie star avoiding the press.

And me?

I’m tucked under Rhys’s arm on the back steps, a paper plate of half-eaten potato salad in my lap, watching the everything unfold like it’s a movie I’ve seen a hundred times but still love.

He smells like soap and home. Like comfort and closeness. His hoodie is too warm for the late afternoon sun, but I’m wearing it anyway.

His thumb moves gently along my arm. Something he has done hundreds of times.

It’s stupid, but sometimes I still catch myself waiting for the crash—for the quiet darkness that always seemed to follow moments like this.

But it never comes.

Not lately.

Not in the last three months.

I’ve been seizure-free. My meds are stable. My routine is manageable. My body feels like mine again, and every time I wake up, and realise I’m still okay—still here and still me and still with him ...

Yeah.

It’s peace. And that’s something I didn’t know how to wish for until now.

“You’re staring,” Rhys murmurs.

“At you? Always,” I tease.

He side-eyes me, amused. “What are you plotting, Monroe?”

“Just admiring how you’ve turned into a full-blown house husband. You’re one ‘yes, dear’ away from dad shoes.”

He scoffs. “You’re the one in my hoodie.”

“Exactly. Asserting my ownership in this relationship. What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine,” I tease.

He huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to the top of my head, but it lingers. Like he knows. Like we both know what it took to get here.

Inside the house, Millie walks past the sliding door, bouncing Linkin on her hip. She’s trying not to look as tired as she is, but I can see it in her posture—the strain behind the smile. Hayden follows, a nappy bag slung over one shoulder, his phone in the other hand.

Millie stops and turns towards him.

“Seriously, Hayden, if you’re not going to actually be helpful, at least stop acting like you're trying.” She speaks loud enough for all of us to hear.

Hayden blinks. “I changed him.”

“You wiped his face with a sock , Hayden!” Millie yells, her frustration almost breaking her.

Rhys snorts beside me. Chase whistles low from the kitchen. Arden mutters something about second-hand embarrassment.

Millie exhales sharply, eyes narrowing. “You said you wanted to be a father after the baby came. That means stepping up , not just whenever it suits you.”

We all fall quiet.

Hayden looks like he wants to say something—maybe something cruel, something defensive. But instead, he presses his lips together, exhales, and nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll do better.” I really hope he means it. Because he really needs to start showing up more for his son and Millie.

Millie doesn’t respond. She just keeps walking, disappearing farther into the house.

Hayden stands there a minute longer. Then, without saying anything else, he follows her.

My heart twists.

Because I know that look in Millie’s eyes. That don’t break my heart because I already love you too much kind of look.

“They’re figuring it out,” Rhys says softly.

I nod. “Yeah. But it’s going to be messy.”

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Most worth-it things are.”

His comment makes me think about how far we’ve come.

How, just a few months ago, I was packing a bag in silence, disappearing to Smalls’s place because my heart couldn’t take any more noise. Because I thought I was broken, and I couldn’t ask someone like Rhys to choose me when I wasn’t whole.

But he chose me anyway.

Every damn time.

Even when I was hard to love. Even when I was scared to be loved.

And now?

Now I live in his room. Now we share a toothbrush holder and, a shoe rack, and a playlist. Now I fight with him about cereal brands and hogging the blankets, and whether or not to alphabetise our bookshelf (we should).

We’re not perfect. But we’re real.

And for the first time in my life, I trust that real is enough.

Inside, the front door opens.

“They’re here!” Yasmin calls.

Chase groans. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean more people.”

“It means Millie and Hayden are moving out next week, you dumbass. Your mum and my dad are here to help them pack,” she fires back.

“Oh. Right. Yay!” Chase says a little too excited. We don’t mind having them here, but it’s been hard on all of us. Not just the tension between Millie and Hayden but having a baby in the house.

Arden appears in the doorway, already grinning. “They’re going to be living next to Mumma Nat and David. House is all ready.”

Ella perks up. “Wait, the house next door to theirs? I thought that one was being renovated.”

“It was,” Arden says. “I bought it. Told Millie it was hers if she wanted it.”

Rhys whistles. “Look at you. Local hero.” We joke, but this is what Arden does; it’s how he shows his family that he loves them. He makes sure we don’t want for anything.

Arden shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes I don’t usually see. “They deserve space. And help.”

I lean into Rhys, murmuring, “What would we do without Arden?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go to his head.”

The sun has dipped lower now, casting warm orange streaks across the backyard. Someone turns the music up. Chase starts dancing like he’s possessed. Yasmin throws a shoe at him. Ella laughs so hard she snorts.

It’s chaos. It’s comfort. It’s home .

I reach down and lace my fingers with Rhys’s.

“Do you ever think about that day?” I ask.

“Which one?”

“The hallway. When we were fourteen.” I let the memory crash through me.

He goes still.

Then nods. “All the time.”

I glance up at him. “You broke my heart, you know.”

His voice is low. “You broke mine too.” I can see the honesty on his face. I had no idea how Rhys felt that day. He locked his emotions down like a vault. He was dealing with a lot, and I didn’t help the situation.

We don’t speak. Just breathe.

I kiss his shoulder. “I think maybe we had to.”

He brushes my hair behind my ear, and I lean into his hand, loving the way it feels. “Why?”

“So we’d know what it meant to put it back together.”

Rhys leans in and kisses me—soft, slow, full of the kind of love that doesn’t need a declaration to be known.

“I’ll never break your heart again,” he murmurs.

“Good,” I whisper back. “Because this time, I’m staying.”

The screen door opens and Millie steps outside with the baby, her arms full, her face flushed. Hayden follows a beat later with a bottle in one hand and a blanket in the other. He fumbles and almost drops the bottle, and Millie glares.

“Get help, Hayden,” she says quietly. “If you want to do this with me—really do it—then get help. Be better. For him.”

It’s not said with anger.

It’s said with hope.

Hayden doesn’t answer right away. But then, slowly, he nods.

And it’s in that tiny, quiet moment that I know.

Their story is only just beginning.

And it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

As the sky turns pink and the stars blink into view, I look around at my people—my found family, my home, my forever.

I don’t know what comes next.

But I’m not scared of it anymore.

Because I’m not facing it alone.

Thank you for reading Rhys and Ally’s story. I hope you love them as much as I do.