Page 36 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Circe

“A parent’s love doesn’t break. It bends. It aches. But it doesn’t fail.”

I’m due any day now. The child growing inside me is both a burden and a blessing. A constant reminder of the life Colin and I are building together. Each movement, each kick, fills me with equal parts anticipation and fear. What if I fail this little one? What if I can’t be the mitéra he or she deserves?

Colin has been working tirelessly with the men in our new herd. His hands calloused and his skin bronzed from hours under the sun. They’ve been building us a home—a place where our child will take their first steps, where laughter will fill the walls, where we can finally begin to lay down roots.

He’s kept most of the details from me, insisting it’s a surprise, though I catch glimpses of his excitement when he talks about it.

Today is the day he reveals his hard work to me.

The morning is crisp, and the air carries the faint scent of wildflowers and freshly turned earth.

Colin meets me by the door of Isaak’s home. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he smiles wide. He’s barely rested these past months, but he seems to draw strength from the anticipation of this moment.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, taking my hand.

I laugh softly. My heart fluttering with curiosity. “Colin, I’m hardly steady enough to walk blind.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm securely around my waist. “I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

I do. I always have.

As he guides me, gravel crunches beneath my feet. And leaves rustle occasionally in the breeze. The warmth of the sun kisses my skin, and I sense Colin’s excitement in the way he holds me. His steps quicken as we near the destination.

“All right,” he says, his voice low and full of emotion. “Open your eyes.”

I do—and my breath stalls.

Before me stands a small but sturdy house with windows framed with carved shutters painted a soft sage green. The roof is slanted and shingled, and its walls gleam in the morning light. Flowers bloom in the soil around the base of the home—wildflowers, the kind I’ve always loved.

“Oh, Colin,” I whisper. My voice trembling.

He pulls me closer. His eyes never leaving mine. “It’s not as grand as Isaak’s, but it’s ours. A place for us. For the baby.”

As I take in the details, tears prick my eyes. The carefully built porch. The door with its polished brass handle. And the chimney that promises warmth during long winters. I imagine rocking our child to sleep here, watching the seasons change through the wide front window.

My parents, who have been staying with us in preparation for the baby’s arrival, step forward from where they’d been standing a little way off. My mitéra’s face is full of pride, while my patér’s eyes gleam with unshed tears.

“We’re so proud of you,” my mitéra says, reaching for my hand. “You’ve come so far.”

I nod. The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. “I wouldn’t have made it without you forgiving me. I know… I know I broke your hearts when I initiated the mating ceremony.”

My patér shakes his head. “A parent’s love doesn’t break, Circe. It bends. It aches. But it doesn’t fail,” he says with a gaze full of emotion.

I reach for him, pulling him into a hug, then my mitéra joins us. For a moment, we’re simply a family, standing together in the shadow of this new beginning.

Colin clears his throat softly, drawing my attention back to him. “Shall we go inside?”

I nod, taking his hand as he leads me to the door. When we step inside, I’m greeted by the faint scent of fresh wood and the warmth of a home that’s been crafted with care. The living area is modest, yet inviting. The walls are adorned with shelves that Colin has already begun to fill with small mementos.

He leads me from room to room, showing me the kitchen where a table and chairs wait for family meals, and the cozy nursery, already furnished with a handmade crib.

I stop when we reach the bedroom, overwhelmed by the sheer love that radiates from every corner of this space. The brass bed, polished to a warm sheen and built by Colin’s own hands, sits against the far wall. A small rocking chair with a soft blanket draped over its back rests by the window.

“This,” I whisper, turning to Colin. “This is more than I ever dreamed.”

He smiles, brushing a tear from my cheek. “It’s just the beginning, Circe. Our beginning.”

I lean into his embrace, and my belly flutters—a tiny reminder of the life we’ve created together. I feel peace in his arms. All my mistakes have led me to where I belong. With Colin.