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The morning was still young, the sun barely peeking through the kitchen window as Lila stood by the counter, slowly sipping her cup of tea. She had taken the time to make it just the way she liked it (a little bitter with a splash of milk). The warmth it brought as she cupped the mug in her hands gave her a moment of peace.
The house was quiet. Too quiet, really. She’d gotten used to the chaos of her old life—the noise, the rush, the constant presence of her children. Now, though, she had them only half the time. One week with her, one week with Diego. It worked, somehow. They made it work.
Still, after half a year of sharing custody, it felt strange to wake up to an empty house. Grace’s little giggles were missing, and the twins' loud shrieks didn’t resonate in every corner. It was just her and the silence. She’d never been good with silence.
Her mind wandered as it often did when she had too much time to think, her brain working overtime when there was no distraction around. It had been a year since they stopped the last apocalypse. A year since they lost Ben and Jennifer to The Cleanse. That hollow ache still lingered, an absence that sat heavy on her chest. They'd fought so hard, given up so much, only to lose people they cared about. Ben, who was a pain but still family. Jennifer, whose life had been tied to everything; even if they only knew her for a bit, Lila’s heart ached for that poor girl who had been the key to something bigger than all of them. All of it—pain, suffering, loss, grief… for this. For another chance to live.
Lila stared into her tea, watching the steam curl upward as her thoughts drifted further back. To her life before. To the way The Handler had raised her, shaping her into a weapon without her even realizing it; she made her into a monster that stared back at her every time she looked into the mirror. That woman had filled her with so much poison, twisted her up so much, she hadn't known how to live without the chaos. Every decision back then had been warped, tainted by manipulation. Even her relationship with Diego.
Diego. She sighed, thinking about him. They'd been a fire in the beginning—fast, hot, and all-consuming. Their first weeks together had been explosive, to say the least. They both needed someone to hold onto, to try and mold after the things they lacked. Passion and necessity had shaped their love. After the reset of the universe, they tried to build something more stable. They had their kids, their little family. But somewhere along the way, they’d burned each other out. Their marriage was like a bright flame that couldn’t keep itself alive. Six years of trying to make it work, and by the end, they were miserable. There was no other word for it. Miserable.
They survived The Cleanse together, only to realize that surviving wasn't enough. Not for them. Some things couldn’t be forgotten nor forgiven.
The divorce, after all they’d been through, had almost felt inevitable. They'd tried, but sometimes trying just wasn’t enough.
And then there was Five. Her old man.
Lila took another sip of tea, lips twisting in a soft and giddy smile, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug. God, Five. The memories of those years in the subway were still so vivid. The endless timelines, the constant uncertainty, the way they had to rely on each other to survive. It wasn’t just the physical danger that brought them close—it was the exhaustion, the vulnerability. The way they had peeled back layers of themselves, slowly at first, then faster, until there was nothing left to hide. Until every wall had crumbled at their feet, and they saw each other like no one had before.
She had fought it, the way she always did. The feelings. The pull. It was a feeling she didn’t want, not when she had a husband and three kids waiting for her back home. But there were only so many times you could pretend you weren’t falling in love when the other person was right there with you every second of every day.
Five had been her rock. He took care of her, he stitched her wounds, he had fed her, hugged her, and listened to her. He provided anything she needed in any way he could.
Almost seven years. They had spent almost seven years in that godforsaken subway, and at some point, resisting became impossible. She still felt guilty sometimes, thinking about Diego. About what she’d done to him. But their love had already been crumbling, and maybe falling for Five had saved her from completely breaking apart.
Her eyes drifted to the small space that was now home. She shared this little house with Five, the man she’d fought so hard not to love, only to find herself madly in love with him anyway. It was strange, how things had turned out. How they'd built a life out of the wreckage.
Her kids were growing up in a slightly broken family, sure, but they were happy. Diego was still in their lives, and little by little, they were rebuilding something. Not what they had before, not by a long shot, but maybe something better—a friendship. Co-parents who wanted what was best for their kids.
Healing. That’s what it was. All of them, slowly healing in their own ways.
Lila smiled to herself, her mind still wandering as she stared into the half-empty mug. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the soft footsteps until she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind. Five’s embrace was warm, solid, and she leaned into it without thinking, letting his presence wash over her. A kiss brushed against her neck, gentle and lingering, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
“What are you thinking about, love?” Five asked, his voice soft, the words brushing her skin. His hair tickled the side of her face.
Lila’s smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly to catch a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye. His face was relaxed, and she marveled at how much Five had changed in the last year. He was still her grumpy old man, but he was softer, relaxed. He wasn’t carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders anymore.
Lila liked to believe she had had a huge part in his improvement.
“Everything,” she said honestly. “The past. The present. You.”
Five’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, and Lila sighed, the sound content and soft. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her back, could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. It was still strange, this calm. This quiet happiness. Two assassins who craved chaos finally finding peace in each other’s arms.
“I’m happy,” she added after a moment, the words surprising her as they left her mouth. But it was true. Despite the pain, the guilt, the losses—they had found their way here, to this place where happiness was possible.
Five shifted, turning her slightly so he could look at her, his green eyes searching hers. The love she saw in them was overwhelming, almost too much to bear, and for a second, she thought she might melt under the weight of it. He didn’t say anything, his expression softening in a way that was reserved only for her.
“Good,” he finally murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You deserve it.”
Lila smiled again, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
“We both deserve it.”
For a moment, neither of them moved, just stood there in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s warmth. And for the first time in a long time, Lila felt at peace.
She was home.