You get everything
974 Words
Home, Finally
It was the first day in months that felt… normal.
Lena woke to sunlight spilling across white sheets. The scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. No urgent texts. No headlines. No panic. Just birds chirping faintly through the windows and Liam’s soft humming from his room.
She slid out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Ares was standing at the stove, still in pajama pants and a plain black t-shirt, flipping eggs like a man with nowhere to be.
“Morning,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re up late.”
She smiled. “You’re up early.”
He plated the eggs and nodded toward the table. “Sit. Eat. I’m feeling domestic.”
“Do I get toast with that performance?”
“You get everything.”
She froze. He said it so simply. No tension. No agenda. Just truth.
She took her seat.
They ate in quiet comfort, the kind that only came from surviving something together. Ares poured her coffee just how she liked it—two sugars, no cream. She watched him move, relaxed and confident, a man who no longer needed the armor of suits and silence.
“You ever think about how far we’ve come?” she asked.
“Every day.”
She reached across the table, touched his hand. “I don’t know when it stopped feeling temporary. But it did.”
Ares held her gaze. “I know exactly when it stopped feeling temporary for me.”
“When?”
“That morning in the cabin, when Liam fell asleep on my chest. You looked at us like we were already yours. And I realized—I didn’t want to be anything else but that.”
Lena’s throat tightened. She squeezed his hand.
---
Later that morning, they walked Liam to school together.
He bounced along the sidewalk, a backpack too big for his body and a lunchbox covered in dinosaur stickers.
“Do you think the other kids know my dad’s a superhero?” he asked, glancing back at them.
Ares chuckled. “Let’s keep that between us, champ.”
Lena leaned down. “You’re the superhero, Liam. We’re just your sidekicks.”
He grinned. “Cool.”
When they dropped him off, Liam ran ahead, but turned at the door. “Love you!”
Lena waved. “Love you more.”
Ares added, “Be good, buddy.”
He watched their son disappear into the school building, then turned to Lena.
“Every time I see him walk away, I get this knot in my chest.”
“That’s parenthood,” Lena said. “It doesn’t go away. You just get better at carrying it.”
---
They took the long way home, walking through Central Park, hand in hand.
It had been years since Ares moved through the world like this—with no driver, no security flanking him, no destination.
They sat on a bench under a tree, watching joggers and children and tourists go by.
“Do you ever miss it?” Lena asked. “The power, the boardrooms, the strategy?”
He thought for a moment. “Sometimes. I miss building. But not the politics. Not the masks. This—” he nodded at the park, at her, “—this is what I never had time for. Now I make time.”
She leaned into his side. “I like this version of you.”
“I like that you made space for him.”
She was quiet. Then: “Do you think it’s okay if I’m still scared sometimes?”
Ares kissed her temple. “I’m scared all the time.”
“Really?”
“I’ve nearly lost you twice. That doesn’t go away.”
She turned toward him, brows soft. “You won’t lose me again. We’re a team now.”
He nodded. “Then let’s start acting like one.”
---
That afternoon, they met with the foundation directors.
The Knight-Carter Foundation wasn’t just a name—it was a movement. They outlined initiatives to protect families targeted by tech leaks, media harassment, and reputational abuse.
Lena was hands-on. Ares, strategic.
“I want it to be real,” she said in the meeting. “Not just a statement. We need trauma counseling, legal defense, emergency funds.”
Ares added, “And privacy technology. Tools to help people take their lives back online.”
The team nodded.
It was a new kind of power—one that protected instead of exploited.
That night, back home, Lena sat at her laptop, drafting the foundation’s launch statement.
Ares walked in with two glasses of wine.
“You writing history?” he asked.
“I’m writing something that matters.”
He sat beside her. “You always have.”
She looked up. “Do you know what I was most afraid of, when I came back?”
He shook his head.
“That I’d disappear inside your world again. That I’d stop being Lena.”
He took her hand. “You’re more Lena now than I’ve ever seen. Fierce. Focused. Powerful. I didn’t build this life—we built it. Around you. Around Liam. Around us.”
She kissed him. Slow. Meaningful.
And this time, there were no walls left.
---
Later that week, Lena found a box on the kitchen counter. Inside: a small leather notebook.
On the first page, Ares had written:
“For every moment I couldn’t say it. Every day I should’ve.
I love you. I always have.”
She flipped through the pages. Notes, sketches, ideas. Memories from their past. Letters to Liam. Letters to her.
She clutched it to her chest and whispered to the empty room, “I love you, too.”
And she knew he would hear it.
- Writer
