My Lover is the Son of a Mafia Leader

Epilogue

The soft morning light streaming through the large bay windows of my cozy café cast a warm glow across the worn but polished wooden floors. I stood behind the antique oak counter, thoughtfully arranging the stack of books I'd curated to display that day, their leather-bound spines and embroidered cloth covers creating a vibrant tapestry against the exposed brick walls.

My café was a serene haven for book and coffee aficionados, which I had lovingly fostered over the years. Each corner offered a quiet nook for reading while the tables hummed with lively discourse over steaming mugs. Patrons ranging from university scholars to blissful bibliophiles gathered here daily, kindred spirits bonding over stories.

These regulars had become my cherished companions, their animated discussions and quiet contemplation bringing warmth and purpose to my simple life. I delighted in brewing each person's coffee just to their taste and helping them discover their next literary adventure. This cozy space, overflowing with books, was my whole world.

As I paused to gaze contentedly around the café I had built through passion and care, the brass bell above the door chimed softly. By instinct, I responded warmly, "I'm sorry, we're not quite open yet this morning!" 

The familiar voice that answered back instantly left me breathless. Well, I suppose I could come back later if you insist, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you again after missing you every day for three long years."

I turned slowly, hardly daring to believe it could be him. But there was my Ivo, just as I remembered, looking at me with that same love and warmth that had sustained me even through our years apart.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I flew across the room into his embrace. As we held each other close, it felt as though not one day had passed. The years apart melted away in the comfort of his arms.

My gaze caught on the photo of Kev hanging in the corner, forever preserving his spirited smile. Though it pained me that he could not witness this reunion, I sensed he was at peace, joyful that I had found my way home.

And in that moment, surrounded by books brimming with tales of love and loss, Ivo and I began writing our own story once more. Filled with hope and gratitude, this new chapter bound our enduring hearts closer, with the past woven through it like gilded threads. Here, in this space overflowing with stories, we would build our future together.