I blink, rubbing my eyes to be certain I am not hallucinating.
Aiden continues to approach from a distance, his composure fracturing as a raw, trembling smile breaks across his face. Electricity pulses through my chest, my heart suspended in the agonizing space between hope, elation, and terror.
Could he be real?
The moment he is within reach, I lunge forward, my hands colliding with solid skin. They don’t pass through an apparition; they find the hard, warm reality of his chest.
"Aiden," I breathe, the name catching in my throat like a sob.
"Hermione," he rasps.
It is him. The vibration of his voice under my palms sends a violent shudder through my entire frame. I scan him feverishly, searching for the scars of the fire, for any sign that he had been broken beyond repair. But he is here—whole, breathing, and looking at me as if I am the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.
I close my eyes and pinch my cheek, struggling to confirm that Aiden is actually standing before me. When I open my eyes, terrified he might have vanished into thin air, his face obscures the world, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss isn't gentle; it is a collision. It is a desperate, starving reclamation. It tastes of salt and months of unspoken grief. He latches onto me with a primal ferocity, his hands tangling in my hair as if he’s afraid I’ll dissolve if he lets go for even a second. 
I grab onto his shoulders like a lifeline, chasing the heat of his mouth with an equal, frantic fervor. It is a fire that burns through the cold void his death had left inside me, reigniting parts of my soul I thought had turned to ash.
My fingers roam across his neck, his jaw, his shoulders—reassuring myself with every inch of muscle and skin that this isn't a cruel trick of the light. I pour every ounce of my longing, my anger, and my shattered love into the kiss, my breath hitching as I feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart against my own.
We finally break apart just enough to catch our breath, but neither of us pulls away. I lean my forehead against his, our skin slick with tears.
"You're alive," I whisper, the words barely audible over the hammering of my heart. My chest feels so tight, so flooded with the sheer weight of him, that the tears finally spill over.
"I missed you," Aiden breathes, his voice thick with a matching sorrow. His breath is hot against my lips, a beautiful, living proof of his survival.
I inhale him—the scent of his skin, the familiar warmth—my fingers never relenting in their frantic caress of his face. "I am so happy," I sob, burying my face into the crook of his neck. 
He wraps his arms around me, his embrace a protective fortress that finally feels right. The world is silent, save for the sound of my weeping against his chest. I have missed him so much that I cannot stop the tears from falling.
Sensing we now have an audience, I pull away and turn around. It dawns on me as I observe the men that they already knew Aiden was alive. That was why Noah had deliberately driven me here.
I turn back to face Aiden. "How long has it been since you returned?"
"Two months," he replies.
I whip around to face Noah. "And you’re only telling me now?"
Noah holds his hands up in surrender, backing away.
"He had to keep a low profile until Lachlan’s case was fully closed," Jordan states.
"Father-in-law!" I look at Chairman Mendes.
"I asked Dad not to tell you," Aiden says from behind me.
I turn back to him, pounding my fists against his chest. "Why? Were you content watching me go insane while you were playing dead? Why?"
Aiden catches my wrists and brings them to his mouth. "I’m sorry," he murmurs against my skin, loosening my grip with his kisses.
"By the time I knew about Aiden’s condition, he wasn't healthy enough to appear in public," Jordan explains. "The explosion still wrecked him, even though..."
"The shaman’s magic protected him," I conclude.
Aiden’s body goes lax, grief radiating off him.
"She didn't survive it?" I ask.
He shakes his head slowly, looking downcast. "There were things I had to handle in private. A befitting burial for her. She exhausted her life force to save me from that fire. She died painfully."
"I'm sorry," I whisper. My apology is directed both to the shaman, for having looked down on her magic, and to Aiden for his profound loss.
I am aware that he now views the shaman as his grandmother. He felt so indebted to her already, and now she has made the ultimate sacrifice for his sake.
 I pull his head down to my shoulder, offering what comfort I can. I breathe in deeply and release a heavy exhale, wishing the shaman a peaceful rest. Eternal bliss.
"Thank you," I whisper, hoping the shaman can hear me in the next world. Thank you for saving him.
"For what?" Aiden whispers into my ear, tightening his embrace.
"For staying alive."
---------------------------
 AIDEN
"The Man from the Sky."
That was the nickname my rescuers gave me.
 The shaman’s protective bubble had tossed me out of the destructive force of the flames and into an unknown region. I hadn't escaped unscathed; I had plummeted from a great height, falling directly into the path of the locals who saved me—a hunter and his teenage son on their way home.
I was unconscious for months. I feared I might lose my cognitive abilities, just as my mother had, given the height I recalled plunging from. But my rescuers' knowledge of healing was vast. It took a full month before I regained function of my limbs, and another month before I was certified fit to journey out of that rustic, isolated region.
They were the first people I had ever met who had no idea what a cellphone was. At first, I feared the magic had sent me back in time.
Jordan was the first to know I was alive. I called him the moment I reached a civilized area and got my hands on a phone. His shock was profound. Noah had been with him the day I called, and the two of them rushed to pick me up, overwhelmed by a mixture of shock and relief.
My first stop—after memorizing the path so I could one day return and repay my rescuers—was the shaman’s home. Rheanon was visibly shaken to see me. She broke down in tears as she told me of the shaman’s tragic demise. They had honored her memory in my absence. I hadn't expected Rheanon to grow so attached to her, yet she still came to tend to the grave. She had indeed been a wise selection.
I’ve been following the recent developments since then: Lachlan’s trial, the arrest of Hermione’s mother, and the rest. 
I ached to see Hermione—to hold her and assure her I was alive. Noah’s reports on her grieving process didn't help my patience, but I held steady.
I watched her from afar. Every time she knelt at my grave to communicate with me, I was there, hidden. Although I burned to hear her voice and feel her warmth, I couldn't risk it. Everything needed to be in place before I made my appearance. Nothing could be left to chance. I promised myself that when I finally stepped back into the world, it would be with Hermione on my arm.
Dad found me eventually. He tracked me down barely two weeks after I resurfaced, relieved yet efficiently masking his shock at how I had escaped the fire. He asked his questions, and to my answers, he offered only a grim, knowing nod.
Now, gathered here with my loved ones and the love of my life in my arms—everyone wishing me a happy birthday—I can’t help but smile. Emotion clogs my throat. I lace my fingers with Hermione’s and voice my appreciation to everyone present.
"Today is a massive blessing for me. I wouldn’t be here if not for the sacrifice of my adoptive grandmother, the late shaman. May her soul rest in eternal peace."
Everyone murmurs the prayer in unison.
"Dad, Hermione, Noah, Jordan, Kash—I am so grateful to all of you for the love, the support, and your steadfast loyalty. Thank you." I raise a glass to the group. "Cheers to many more years of health, wealth, and celebration."
"Cheers!" everyone echoes, the sound of clinking glasses filling the air.
As the celebration continues, I look at Hermione and plant a tender kiss on her knuckles. "What do you say, love? Are you ready to step back into the limelight with your sweetheart?"
Hermione grins, her eyes bright with a new fire. "I can't wait."