The spring air carried the scent of cherry blossoms as Nadia stood at the window of their bedroom in their apartment in the estate. The golden light of morning sun filtered through the apartment windows, across the hardwood floors. After six months in the countryside —a necessary retreat for Jayson's recovery—the city's constant hum felt both foreign and familiar. Nadia moved to the bedroom doorway, watching as Jayson buttoned his crisp white shirt with steady fingers, no longer hampered by the tremors that had plagued him for months after the accident.
"Nervous?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Jayson's reflection smiled back at her in the mirror. "A little. Though not as nervous as I was learning to walk again." He turned to face her, his movements fluid and natural—a stark contrast to the man who had struggled with every step just months ago.
"Dr. Michaels would be impressed with your progress," Nadia said, crossing the room to straighten his already-perfect tie. It was an excuse to be close to him, to breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne.
"He said I was his most stubborn patient." Jayson caught her hand against his chest. "But we both know who the real hero of my recovery was."
Nadia shook her head. "You did all the hard work."
"Not without you reading to me when I couldn't sleep from the pain. Not without you pushing my wheelchair through those country lanes when I was too proud to admit I was tired." His voice softened. "Not without you believing I would walk again when even I had doubts."
She rose on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. "Go show them what you're made of. The bureau doesn't know what they've been missing."
"What about you? Any plans for returning back to your career?"
Nadia moved to the window where she had set up a small easel the day before. "I thought I'd take a look in new direction. Maybe start sketching the city skyline. Get reacquainted with my paints." She ran her fingers along the wooden palette, still pristine and unused. "It's been years since I really allowed myself to create something just because I wanted to."
"Your articles always had such vivid descriptions. I always thought you painted with words," Jayson said, retrieving his suit jacket from the bed. "But I can't wait to see what you create with actual paint."
"I might be terrible," she laughed.
"You won't be. But even if you were—which you're not—you'd get better. That's what you taught me during all those painful physical therapy sessions."
"Fair Point."
Jayson checked his watch. "I should go if I want to make it before the morning meeting."
She helped him into his jacket, a gesture that had once been born of necessity when he couldn't manage himself, now transformed into a ritual of affection.
"I'll be thinking of you all day," he said, kissing her goodbye.
After he left, Nadia stood before her blank canvas for nearly an hour, alternating between excitement and terror at the empty space waiting to be filled. Six months ago, leaving her journalism career would have seemed unthinkable. She had worked so hard to become a respected reporter, had sacrificed weekends and relationships for breaking stories and tight deadlines.
But watching Jayson fight for every step, every small movement that most people took for granted, had shifted something fundamental in her understanding of time and purpose. Life was too precious to spend doing something that no longer brought her joy.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Jayson: Made it to the office. Everyone was happy—too nice. New Chief had replaced Walter. Settled in just fine
She smiled and typed back: That's good. Just be sure not to overstress.
The day passed quickly as Nadia lost herself in mixing colors and making preliminary sketches. By late afternoon, she had covered the canvas with the beginnings of the city skyline as seen from their apartment window, but with fantastical elements woven through the concrete and glass—vines and flowers growing from skyscrapers, birds with impossible plumage soaring between buildings.
When she heard Jayson's key in the lock, she was surprised to see the sky outside had darkened. He entered with an armful of groceries and a wide smile.
"Welcome home, detective," she said, kissing him. "How was your triumphant return?"
"Exhausting. Exhilarating." He set the bags on the kitchen counter. "New chief called me into his office at the end of the day."
"And?"
 Jayson began unpacking groceries. "He offered me a promotion - Senior detective."
Nadia gasped. "Jayson! That's—that's incredible!"
"It's a lot more responsibility," he warned. "More hours, more pressure."
"It's what you've worked toward for years," she said, helping him put away the food. "I'm so proud of you."
"I told him I needed to discuss it with you first."
Nadia stopped, a can of tomatoes halfway to the shelf. "Why? This is your decision."
"Because after everything we've been through, I don't make big life decisions without you anymore." He took the can from her and set it down. "What we have—what you gave me these past months—it's more important than any promotion."
"I would never ask you to turn this down."
"I know you wouldn't. That's part of why I love you." Jayson reached into his pocket. "Which brings me to the other thing I wanted to discuss with you tonight."
He pulled out a small velvet box, and Nadia's breath caught.
"I had planned something elaborate. Dinner at that restaurant on the river where we had our first date back then. Maybe a violinist, champagne, the whole cliché." He gestured around their simple kitchen, the half-prepared meal on the counter. "But standing here, in our home, after everything... This feels right."
He opened the box to reveal a delicate vintage ring with a modest diamond surrounded by tiny sapphires.
"It was my grandmother's," he explained. "The woman who raised me after my parents died. She told me to give it to someone extraordinary." His voice wavered slightly. "Someone who would stand by me through anything, who would see the best in me even when I couldn't see it myself."
Nadia's vision blurred with tears as he continued.
"These past months showed me what I always knew but was too busy to fully appreciate. You are the strongest, most compassionate person I've ever known. You put your career on hold without hesitation to help me recover, and now you're brave enough to pursue a new dream."
He took a deep breath. "Nadia Brown, will you marry me? Will you continue this journey with me, whatever unexpected turns it takes?"
"Yes," she whispered, her voice catching. Then louder, with certainty, "Yes, Jayson. Yes."
As he slipped the ring onto her finger, his hand steady and sure, Nadia thought about the painting she had started that day—the familiar city landscape transformed into something new and magical. It seemed a fitting metaphor for what lay ahead: a familiar life reimagined, infused with new purpose and possibility.
Later that night, as they sat at their small dining table, eating the simple pasta dinner Jayson had prepared, Nadia held up her hand, watching how the ring caught the light.
"Your grandmother had excellent taste," she said.
"She would have loved you," Jayson replied. "She always said that hard times reveal true character."
"I think we've had enough hard times for a while."
"Agreed." He raised his glass. "To new beginnings."
"To new beginnings," she echoed, clinking her glass against his. "And to the stories we have yet to write—or paint—together."
"Ah, Senator Lewis sentencing will hold tomorrow "Jayson chipped in.
Nadia's face turned stern "I love to see their faces. And get a closure."
"Sure. Let's go tomorrow. But now let's enjoy the moment".
Outside, the city continued its perpetual motion, lights flickering on in windows across the skyline. But in their small apartment, Jayson and Nadia had created a moment of perfect stillness—a pause between what had been and what would be, filled with nothing but gratitude and possibility.
---------
The courthouse steps were crowded with reporters the next morning. Nadia gripped Jayson's hand tightly as they made their way through the throng, ignoring the shouted questions and camera flashes.
Nadia's surprise was evident when she spotted Zora approaching the court entrance. She hurried over to her.
"Zora," Nadia breathed, embracing her tightly. "You're back in the city."
"Just got in yesterday," Zora said, feeling the strange tension of holding someone who had once known every inch of her. "You look well."
"I am. Came to see their last smile" Nadia said.
"Guess you guys are finally back together " Zora gestured as her eyes moved between Nadia and Jayson.
Nadia smiled. 
Jayson "your guess was sure right "
The three of them laughed as they entered Inside, the marble halls echoing with footsteps and hushed conversations.
"There's going to be a lot of eyes on us," Jayson murmured. "You still want to do this?"
Nadia squared her shoulders. "I want to look them in the eye when they fall."
The courtroom was packed, but they found seats near the back.
The air was tense with anticipation as the bailiff called for all to rise. Judge Patricia Reynolds—known for her uncompromising stance on corruption—took her place at the bench, her expression unreadable.
When the defendants were brought in, Nadia felt her chest tighten. Senator Donovan Lewis, once imposing in his tailored suits and imperious manner, now looked diminished in standard-issue orange. Behind him came Tyrone Martin, his half brother, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Last was Police Chief Reginald Walter, whose department had buried evidence and intimidated witnesses for years.
"God, I barely recognize them," Zora whispered.
The proceedings moved swiftly. The verdict had been decided days earlier—guilty on all counts. Today was merely the formality of sentencing.
Judge Reynolds addressed each defendant in turn, her voice carrying clearly through the hushed courtroom.
"Senator Lewis, this court has found you guilty of corruption, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy to commit fraud. The evidence shows a pattern of behavior spanning decades, using your position of power to enrich yourself at the expense of those you swore to serve."
Lewis stood rigidly, his famous charisma now hollowed out.
"Tyrone Martin, you facilitated these crimes, silenced witnesses, and destroyed evidence. Your loyalty was purchased at the cost of your integrity."
Tyrone seemed to physically shrink under her words.
"And Chief Walter, you betrayed the badge you wore and the oath you took to protect this community. Instead, you became just another tool in a corrupt machine."
The judge paused, surveying the courtroom. Her gaze briefly settled on Nadia.
"The sentences I am about to pronounce reflect not only the severity of your crimes but the betrayal of public trust they represent. Senator Lewis, this court sentences you to twenty-five years in federal prison without possibility of parole."
A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom.
"Mr. Martin, having been found guilty of the murder of Miss Naomi Peterson and Detective Cedric, you're hereby sentenced to death. Chief Walter, fifteen years imprisonment with forfeiture of all pension and benefits."
As the judge's gavel came down with finality, Nadia felt tears streaming down her face. Jayson's arm tightened around her shoulders.
"It's over," he whispered against her hair. "It's really over."
Outside, the courthouse steps were chaotic with reporters scrambling for comments. Nadia, Jayson, and Zora slipped out through a side entrance, finding temporary refuge in a small courtyard.
"I should be feeling something more," Nadia admitted, staring at the ornamental fountain before them. "Triumph? Satisfaction? But all I feel is... exhausted."
"Justice is exhausting," Zora said simply. "Especially when you've had to fight so hard for it."
They stood in companionable silence until Zora cleared her throat. "I've been waiting for the right moment to tell you both," she said. "I'm finally leaving to the state."
Nadia turned, surprised. "State? That's... far."
"That's kind of the point." Zora leaned against the railing, her expression thoughtful. "I want to go someplace far and start afresh" Her eyes flickered to Nadia's hand, where the engagement ring caught the afternoon light. "I'm glad you've got someone beside you now. At least I won't be leaving you alone." She chuckled.
Jayson tactfully stepped away, giving 
them privacy.
After Nadia disappeared with Jayson from St Francis, Tyrone had come after Zora, hoping to get Nadia through her but he doesn't know that some bonds are stronger than diamond. Zora also lost her job and traveled out of then.
"Zora..." Nadia began.
"Don't," Zora said gently. "I'm happy for you, Nady. Truly. Through it all, you guys stood by each other"
"I'm going to miss you, dearly"
"Me too. But we'll be in touch"
They embraced tightly, years of shared history flowing between them. When they pulled apart, both were crying.
"Be happy, Nady," Zora whispered. "That's all I ever wanted for you."
With a final squeeze of hands, Zora stepped back. "Take care of her," she called to Jayson.
"Every day," he promised.
They watched as Zora walked away, her figure gradually blending with the crowd until she disappeared from view.
Jayson returned to Nadia's side, taking her hand. "You okay?"
"I will be," she said, leaning into him. "It feels like everyone's starting new chapters today."
"Including us." He smiled down at her. "Still want that quiet life we talked about? The little house outside the city, maybe a dog or two?"
Nadia laughed, the sound light and free in a way it hadn't been for too long. "Only if you're in it."
"Always," he promised, pressing a kiss to her temple.
They walked away from the courthouse hand in hand, their steps in perfect sync. Behind them, the noise of the past faded—the accusations, the fear, the constant looking over shoulders. Ahead stretched a future neither had dared hope for during those darkest days.
A future they had fought for. A future they had earned.
As they reached the street, Nadia paused, looking back one last time at the imposing courthouse where justice had finally been served.
"Ready?" Jayson asked softly.
Nadia turned to him, her face alight with quiet joy. "For everything."
And with that, they stepped forward together into the bright afternoon, not as victims of a corrupt system, but as survivors who had refused to be silenced. Behind them, a chapter closed. Ahead, a story waited to be written—one of hope, peace, and the kind of love that had fought to stay alive against all odds.
And finally, they were free to live it.
The End