Jay's POV
Ten years later.
The ocean looked the same as the day he proposed. The same as the day we married. The same as the night we stood under the moon and promised each other forever.
But everything else?
Everything had changed.
In the best possible way.
I stood on the porch of our home — the one Keifer built with his own hands, stubbornly refusing help because he wanted "every nail to mean something." The late afternoon sun painted the sky gold, and the breeze carried the sound of laughter.
Three different kinds of laughter.
Three pieces of us.
Keira Serina Rose Watson
Our firstborn.
Our miracle.
She came into the world with Keifer's eyes, my stubbornness, and a quiet strength that made everyone fall in love with her instantly.
At eight years old, she was already too smart for her own good — reading books way above her age, asking questions that made Keifer rub his temples, and somehow always knowing when one of her brothers was about to cause trouble.
She was the calm in the storm.
My little shadow.
His little star.
Kayden Jean Watson & Mark Kade Watson
The twins.
The chaos.
The reason Keifer aged five years in one.
Kayden was the loud one — fearless, energetic, always climbing something he shouldn't. Mark was quieter, observant, but just as mischievous when he teamed up with his brother.
Together?
Unstoppable.
They were five now, racing across the yard with wooden swords, shouting about dragons and pirates and "saving the kingdom."
Keifer chased after them, pretending to be a monster, roaring dramatically while the boys screamed with laughter.
I leaned against the railing, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
This was my life.
My family.
My peace.
Keira walked up beside me, holding her sketchbook.
"Mama," she said softly, "can I draw you?"
I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Of course, sweetheart."
She sat on the porch steps, legs crossed, pencil already moving.
I watched her for a moment — the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way she bit her lip just like I did when I focused.
Then I looked back at Keifer.
He scooped Kayden up with one arm, Mark with the other, spinning them both until they shrieked with joy.
He looked up at me mid‑spin.
And smiled.
That smile.
The same one he gave me the day he knelt in the sand and asked me to choose him forever.
I walked down the steps toward him.
He set the boys down, letting them run off again, and wrapped his arms around my waist — the same way he did on our wedding night.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey," I whispered back.
He kissed my forehead, slow and warm.
"Look at them," he said quietly. "Look at what we built."
I leaned into him, my heart full.
"We did good," I said.
He chuckled. "We did amazing."
The twins tackled his legs. Keira called out, "Daddy, stay still! I'm drawing you too!"
He groaned dramatically. "I can't move? At all?"
"No!" she yelled.
He looked at me helplessly.
I laughed. "You heard the artist."
He sighed, but his eyes were soft. "I'm trapped."
"You love it," I said.
He kissed my cheek. "I love you."
I smiled, resting my head against his shoulder.
"I love you too."
The sun dipped lower. The waves kept moving. Our children laughed. Our home stood strong.
And for the first time in a long time—
I realized something.
This wasn't just peace.
This wasn't just happiness.
This was everything we fought for.
Everything we survived for.
Everything we chose.
Our forever.