Page 162 of Sadistic

That she chooses to be here.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, tracing patterns on my chest.

"That arranged marriages might not be fairy tales, but sometimes they become something better."

"Like what?"

"Like this. Like us. Like everything I never knew I wanted."

She kisses me, slow and deep. "Smooth talker."

"Only with you."

"Better be."

As sleep takes us, I think about how much has changed.

Three months ago, I was a man obsessed with control, convinced I could orchestrate a perfect life through watching everything I could and manipulation.

Now I'm a husband who's learned that the best things in life can't be controlled—only cherished.

Revna makes a soft sound in her sleep, burrowing closer.

Somewhere in the house, Dalla's probably still sketching, preparing for tomorrow.

On the nightstand, both our phones sit silent—no immediate threats, no urgent crises.

Just peace.

It won't last—it never does in our world. But for now, in this moment, in this home we've built together, it’s everything I could ever ask for.