Page 105 of Best Kept Secret

I was no longer that girl who worried she didn't belong in Beau's world, who doubted her worth. I had built a career at Savannah Lace, designing the new company cafeteria that had become one of the most sought-after lunch spots in the city. I was still apprenticing with Chef Gervais on the weekends, and Beau had even encouraged me to start hosting pop-up dinners around town. I had dreams now—dreams that I was finally living with him by my side.

But right now, in this moment, none of that mattered. The only thing that counted was here, in this room—the man I loved, singing to our son in that quiet, steady way that always made me feel like the world was a little more settled, a little more right.

I stepped into the room, crossing the space to stand beside the rocking chair, my hand resting on Beau's shoulder. He looked up at me, his eyes soft, and I could see the exhaustion that was part and parcel of long nights with a newborn. But there wasno complaint in his expression. No frustration. Just love—pure, unfiltered love.

"You're getting good at that," I said softly, nodding toward Manav, who was slowly drifting off to sleep, his little fingers still clutching Beau's thumb.

Beau smiled, that easy, confident smile that still made my heart skip a beat. "I've had a good teacher."

I chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. "Maybe I should make you sing it to Pari next time. She'll appreciate the extra practice."

"She's got me wrapped around her finger already. Don't give her any more ideas," he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice, the kind that told me he wouldn't mind one bit.

We sat there in the quiet, the only sound the soft creak of the rocking chair, and the steady hum of the lullaby still hanging in the air. I watched as Manav's eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out as sleep took him. Beau held him close, his large hand cradling the back of our son's head with care.

I knelt beside them, resting my hand on Manav's tiny body, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. "Beau," I whispered, my voice barely audible, "I can't believe this is our life."

Beau looked down at me, his eyes soft and full of something that made my heart ache in the best way. "Me neither," he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion.

I smiled, feeling the tears well up in my eyes, but I didn't fight them. I didn't need to. This wasn't sadness. This was joy, pure and simple. This was the life we had fought for, the life we had built from the ground up.

I stood up slowly, brushing a hand through Beau's hair before I kissed the top of Manav's head. "Let's put him to bed," I whispered.

Beau nodded, standing carefully and carrying Manav to the crib we had set up in the corner. He laid him down gently,his hand lingering on our son's stomach for a moment before he stepped away. We stood together, side by side, watching as Manav slept, his tiny body curled into himself, peaceful and safe.

I leaned into Beau, my head resting against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. "I love you," I whispered, the words slipping out as naturally as breathing.

He kissed the top of my head, his voice soft. "I love you, too, Mira. More than anything."

And as we stood there, watching over the life we had created, I felt it again—the quiet certainty that I had found my place in the world. With Beau, with Pari, with Manav.

This was my family. This was my home. I was whole.