After a full week locked inside the couple's bedroom, Sara felt like she was slowly unraveling. The air felt thick, the walls too close. Though she was surrounded by her husband and children, her soul ached for freedom.
That afternoon, while the twins were studying with Karin and the baby was with his nanny, Sara finally broke. Something inside her snapped—memories surged through her like waves in a storm, crashing against the fragile dam she had tried so hard to build.
—"I can't take it anymore, for God's sake!"—she cried, startling Nick—"Please, let me out!"
Her voice trembled like shattered glass in the wind. She clutched her arms as if trying to hold herself together. The room dissolved into echoes of the past: locked doors, bound wrists, the numbing fog of fear. She wasn't in the mansion anymore—she was back in that cold, windowless place, where time was cruel and mercy nonexistent.
Tears flooded her cheeks as she began to tremble. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, each one a silent scream for salvation.
Nick crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. His embrace was firm but gentle, like an anchor cast into a raging sea.
—"Sara," he whispered. "You'll go outside right now. I promise. But please, swear to me you won't shut us out again."
—"I promise…"—she sobbed against his shoulder.
He took her hand, turned the key, and opened the door.
The moment the door creaked open, it was as if sunlight had poured into her chest. She stepped out, inhaling as if the hallway itself offered her oxygen. Her back straightened, her gaze lifted. She was no longer a prisoner.
Down the corridor, two small figures raced toward her. The twins, seeing their mother free again, squealed with delight and threw themselves into her arms. Sara knelt down to gather them close, kissing their cheeks as if to reclaim every moment lost.
She adored them—her beautiful little reflections of Nick. Holding them grounded her. Her hands trembled, but with joy this time. Joy... and the burning desire to never again be taken from them.
Nick stood nearby, holding the baby in his arms, a quiet smile resting on his lips as he watched the scene. The golden light of the afternoon spilled through the windows, wrapping the family in its gentle warmth.
Sara and the twins ran out into the garden where laughter bloomed like spring flowers. They chased each other between the hedges and over the grass, barefoot and free. For a while, time softened its edges. The sorrow melted into giggles, and the past loosened its grip.
As twilight painted the sky in hues of rose and ash, they returned to the house. The children were bathed and readied for bed. Nick, meanwhile, cared for the baby, rocking him gently until his small breaths deepened in sleep.
Later that night, in the quiet shelter of their room, Nick wrapped his arms around Sara again, drawing her close by the fireplace.
—"You're glowing,"—he murmured, brushing a kiss against her temple—"So radiant it drives me wild with love."
Sara smiled, resting her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart—her home.
—"And you,"—she whispered—"you still have that spark in your eyes… the one that first set me on fire."
He laughed softly, running his fingers through her hair.
—"Then let me be the flame that keeps you warm."
She tilted her face up to his, eyes full of quiet longing.
—"Just don't ever lock the door again,"—she said, voice barely audible—"My soul was never meant to be caged."
—"Never again,"—he vowed, and sealed the promise with a kiss that held every tear, every hope, and every heartbeat they had ever shared.
And in the glow of the fireplace, love became a healing fire. Not to burn, but to illuminate. To remind them both: they had survived the storm—and in each other, they had found the sun.