Epilogue
Angelica POV The snow is melting. It’s early spring in Moscow, and the city looks softer than I remember—edges blurred, light warmer. I stand by the window of the dance studio, one hand resting on my stomach, feeling the quiet rhythm of life growing inside me. I still dance. Just differently now. Slower. More aware. Every movement feels intentional, like I’m speaking to someone who can’t hear me yet—but somehow understands. Alexander watches from the doorway. He doesn’t hide anymore. He doesn’t hover either. He’s just… there. Present. Steady. That matters. I used to think love had to be loud to be real. Dramatic. Painful. Earned through sacrifice. I was wrong. Love is waking up and knowing someone will choose you again today. Love is being seen without being owned. Love is sta
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