Updated Oct 23, 2025 • ~12 min read
LINA’S POV
Three weeks after the hearing, Celeste came home.
Five pounds, two ounces. Breathing on her own. Eating like a champion. The doctors declared her healthy enough to leave the NICU, and I cried so hard they almost kept me for observation.
“She’s so small,” I said as the nurse settled her into the car seat. The car seat practically swallowed her.
“She’s perfect,” Seb corrected. “And she’s ours. Finally.”
The drive home was terrifying. Every bump in the road felt like a disaster. Every car that got too close made my heart stop. But we made it, pulled into our building’s garage, and stared at each other.
“We have a baby,” I said.
“We have a baby,” Seb repeated.
“In our apartment. Where we have to keep her alive.”
“We’ve got this.”
“Do we?”
“Absolutely not. But we’ll figure it out.”
Isabella was waiting in our apartment—she’d flown back the day before. She’d set up the nursery perfectly, stocked the fridge, and had a meal plan written out for the next week.
“Let me see my granddaughter,” she demanded.
Seb carefully lifted Celeste from the car seat. She was awake, her dark eyes looking around at this new environment.
“Benvenuta a casa, piccola,” Isabella whispered. Welcome home, little one. “You’re going to be so loved here.”
That first night was chaos.
Celeste woke every two hours. I was exhausted from recovery and weeks of hospital visits. Seb was running on pure adrenaline and fear. Isabella took the midnight shift, rocking Celeste while humming Italian lullabies.
At four AM, I found Seb in the nursery, holding our sleeping daughter, tears streaming down his face.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Nothing. Everything.” He looked at me. “I almost lost this. I almost got deported and missed all of this.”
“But you didn’t. You’re here.”
“For now. The new green card application—Lina, what if they deny it? What if in six months I have to leave?”
“Then we deal with it in six months. But right now, you’re here. She’s here. We’re a family. Can that be enough?”
He nodded, but I could see the fear still lingering.
SEB’S POV
Two weeks with Celeste home, and I was more in love and more terrified than I’d ever been.
She was so tiny. So fragile. Every time she cried, I panicked. Every time she slept too long, I checked to make sure she was breathing.
“You’re hovering,” Lina said, watching me check on Celeste for the third time in an hour.
“I’m being vigilant.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Same thing.”
“Seb, she’s fine. She’s healthy. The doctors said so.”
“The doctors also said she was two months premature and we should watch for complications.”
“Which we are. But you checking her breathing every fifteen minutes isn’t helping anyone. Especially you.”
She was right. I was exhausted. Running on coffee and anxiety.
“I keep thinking about what the judge said,” I admitted. “That my status is temporary. That I could still be denied.”
“Then we apply again. And again. As many times as it takes.”
“But what if—”
“No what-ifs. We promised, remember? We deal with problems as they come, not before.”
“Since when are you the optimistic one?”
“Since I watched you almost get deported and realized life’s too short to live in fear.” She crossed to me, wrapped her arms around my waist. “We have right now. Let’s live in right now.”
“Right now is pretty good.”
“Right now is perfect.”
Celeste woke up crying, and we both laughed.
“Or as perfect as life with a newborn gets,” Lina amended.
LINA’S POV
One month home, and Isabella announced she was leaving.
“You don’t need me anymore,” she said, packing her suitcase. “You’re doing wonderfully.”
“We’re disasters,” I protested. “Yesterday I put Celeste’s diaper on backwards.”
“Everyone does that. You’re learning. Both of you.” She smiled. “Besides, I need to go home. Your father-in-law’s grave needs tending, and Declan claims he’s starving without my cooking.”
“Declan is thirty-five and lives in Milan. He can feed himself.”
“Can he though?” Isabella pulled me into a hug. “Take care of my son. And my granddaughter. I’ll be back for the adoption hearing.”
“If there is one. Jasper could still change his mind.”
“He won’t. That boy finally grew up and realized what matters.” She held me at arm’s length. “You’ve done something remarkable, Lina. You took a broken situation and made it beautiful. I’m proud of you.”
After she left, the apartment felt emptier. Just the three of us now. Our little family.
“It’s quiet,” Seb said that night.
“Too quiet.”
“Should we make another baby to fill the silence?”
I threw a pillow at him. “I just had this baby. Let me recover first.”
“Fair point.” He caught the pillow, grinning. “But eventually?”
“Eventually, maybe. If you’re still here.”
The smile faded. “Right. If I’m still here.”
“Seb—”
“I know. Live in the now. I’m trying.” He sat next to me on the couch. “But Lina, we need to talk about what happens if I get deported.”
“We’re not talking about that.”
“We have to. If I’m sent back to Italy, what happens to Celeste? To us?”
“I told you. We’d come with you.”
“You can’t uproot your entire life—”
“Why not? You uprooted yours for me. For us. Why is it different when I do it?”
“Because you have a life here. Family. Friends. Your design business.”
“Which I can do from anywhere with WiFi. Seb, I’m serious. If you go, we go. All of us.”
“What about Jasper? He’s her biological father. He has rights.”
“We’ll figure out visitation. Video calls. Summers in the US. Whatever works. But I’m not losing you because of geography.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re right. But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
SEB’S POV
The new green card application was submitted six weeks after the hearing.
Complete truth. Every detail about how the marriage started. Copies of the original contract. Documentation of when things changed. Letters from friends, family, even Jasper, all testifying that the marriage was real.
“Now we wait,” Natalia said. “Could be six months. Could be a year.”
“And in the meantime?”
“You live your life. Be a husband. Be a father. Build your case that you belong here.”
So that’s what I did.
I found a new job—lower paying, but stable. They knew about my immigration situation and hired me anyway. I went to every pediatrician appointment with Celeste. Every late-night feeding. Every diaper change. I was present.
And somewhere in all the chaos of new parenthood and immigration limbo, I realized something.
I wanted to marry Lina again.
Not because I had to. Not because of paperwork or green cards or survival. But because I loved her and wanted to choose her, publicly, with everyone watching.
A real wedding. With real vows. And real promises that had nothing to do with anything except love.
“That’s a terrible idea,” Declan said when I called him. “You’re already married. Why complicate things?”
“Because the first wedding was fake. This one would be real.”
“The first wedding became real. That counts.”
“But she deserves better than a courthouse ceremony we rushed through for legal purposes. She deserves flowers and a dress and vows that mean something.”
“Pretty sure your current vows mean something.”
“They do. But I want to say them again. While looking her in the eyes. While choosing her, not because I need her, but because I love her.”
Declan was quiet for a moment. “You’re really doing this?”
“I’m really doing this.”
“Then do it right. Make it memorable. Make her cry.”
“That’s the plan.”
LINA’S POV
Two months after Celeste came home, Seb started acting weird.
Secretive. Taking phone calls in other rooms. Smiling at his phone like it held secrets.
“Are you having an affair?” I asked him one night.
He choked on his water. “What? No! Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re being weird. And sneaky. And you keep disappearing.”
“I’m not having an affair. I promise. I’m just… planning something.”
“Planning what?”
“A surprise. Which I can’t tell you about or it won’t be a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You’re going to love this one.”
Three days later, Stella showed up at my door with a garment bag.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your outfit for tomorrow. Don’t open it until then. Sebastian’s orders.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?”
“A surprise. Which I’ve been sworn to secrecy about. But Lina?” She squeezed my hand. “Trust him. It’s going to be beautiful.”
The next morning, Seb was gone when I woke up. A note on his pillow:
Get dressed in the outfit Stella brought. Be ready by 11 AM. Someone will pick you up. Trust me. I love you. -S
The outfit was a dress. Cream colored, flowing, beautiful. Not quite a wedding dress, but close.
At exactly eleven AM, Isabella arrived.
“You look beautiful,” she said.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. But first—” She handed me a bouquet. Wildflowers, simple and perfect. “From Sebastian. He picked them himself.”
In the car, I tried to get answers. “Isabella, what is this?”
“Patience, cara. You’ll see soon enough.”
We pulled up to a park. The same park where Seb and I had walked after our courthouse wedding, eating ice cream and pretending to be a normal couple.
And there he was.
Standing under an arch of flowers. In a suit. With Declan next to him, and Stella, and Jasper, and a handful of other people I recognized. Our friends. Our family.
An officiant stood at the front.
This was a wedding.
“Seb, what—”
“Marry me,” he said. “Again. But real this time. With everyone watching. With vows we mean. With promises that have nothing to do with green cards or arrangements or anything except loving you.”
“We’re already married.”
“I know. But I want to choose you again. In front of everyone. I want them to see me choose you.”
Tears streamed down my face. “You’re insane.”
“Completely. Will you marry me anyway?”
I walked toward him, bouquet in hand, Celeste in Isabella’s arms watching us.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Again.”
SEB’S POV
The ceremony was short. Simple. Perfect.
The officiant—a friend of Natalia’s who’d agreed to do this as a vow renewal, not a legal ceremony—smiled at us.
“Sebastian and Lina have asked to renew their vows today. To publicly declare their love and commitment to each other. Sebastian, your vows?”
I took Lina’s hands.
“When I met you six months ago, I was desperate. Lost. Running out of time and options. Marrying you was supposed to be a solution. A transaction. A means to an end.”
She smiled through tears.
“But you weren’t a solution. You were the answer to questions I hadn’t even asked yet. You showed me what home feels like. What family means. What it’s like to be loved not because you’re useful, but because you’re you.”
“I’m not good with words. I’m an engineer. I think in logic and code. But loving you doesn’t fit into algorithms. It’s messy and complicated and makes absolutely no sense. And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
“I promise to choose you. Every day. In front of judges and immigration officers and anyone else who questions us. I promise to be Celeste’s father, not because paperwork says so, but because my heart does. I promise to fight for us. To stay. To never stop working to deserve you.”
“You’re my wife. My partner. My home. And if they deport me tomorrow, I’ll spend the rest of my life finding my way back to you.”
I was crying now. So was she. So was everyone watching.
“Lina, your vows?”
She took a shaky breath.
“Sebastian Santoro, you are the most stubborn, overthinking, beautiful man I’ve ever met. When you proposed a business arrangement in that coffee shop, I thought I was getting a solution to my problems. I didn’t realize I was getting you.”
“You’ve taught me that love isn’t about perfect timing or ideal circumstances. It’s about showing up. About staying when things get hard. About choosing each other even when the world makes it difficult.”
“I promise to choose you. Even when you’re annoying. Especially when you’re annoying. I promise to fight for our family with everything I have. To make sure Celeste knows she has the best father in the world—not because biology says so, but because character does.”
“You’re mine. I’m yours. We’re a family. And nothing—not immigration, not courts, not distance—is going to change that.”
“I love you. Not because I need you. But because I can’t imagine not loving you.”
The officiant smiled. “By the power vested in me by exactly no one, since you’re already legally married, I now pronounce you still husband and wife. You may kiss—again.”
I kissed her. Properly. While everyone cheered.
And when we pulled apart, Celeste was crying in Isabella’s arms—probably hungry, not emotionally moved—but it felt symbolic anyway.
Our daughter. Our family. Our second chance to get it right.
This time, we weren’t faking anything.
This time, it was all real.
💋 This scene continues with an exclusive bonus chapter on Patreon! Want to see how they celebrate their real wedding night? The uncut, steamy version is available now at patreon.com/hauda – along with early access to all new stories, extended epilogues, and more explicit content.
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