Chapter 34: 32 - Found Love

Two months. That’s how long I’d been staying in the mortal world, blending into its chaos and simplicity. For two months, I had walked among them, hidden in plain sight, relishing every moment I could steal with him. But now, the ache inside me has grown unbearable.

The mortal world wasn’t meant for me. The longer I stayed, the more it clawed at my essence, reminding me of the inevitable. My place wasn’t here, no matter how much I wished it was.

I leaned against the railing of the rooftop, the wind whipping through my hair as I stared at the city below. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them comforting. He was happier than I’d ever seen him—though he’d never admit it, of course. His laughter came more easily, his brooding silences less frequent. And yet, I knew the truth.

I had to leave.

I hadn’t heard from Enzo in weeks. No solutions, no permissions, no loopholes. The silence was damning. I clenched my fists, the metallic taste of frustration on my tongue. I’d tried everything—pleading , bargaining, even threatening the heavens themselves. But nothing.

The edge of the rooftop felt like a cruel metaphor. I couldn’t die, not truly, but the idea of creating a scene—of faking my death—crossed my mind. Would he believe it? Would it make it easier for him to let go?

I stepped closer to the edge, the city lights blurring beneath me. My heart—or what passed for it—felt heavy. I was about to take the step, to stage the act, when a voice cut through the night like a blade.

“La Muerte,” it said, firm and commanding. “Let’s make a deal.”

I froze, the air around me crackling with tension. Slowly, I turned, my eyes narrowing as I met his gaze. Lucifer stood there, bathed in the glow of the city lights, his presence radiating anger and determination.

I tilted my head, a smirk tugging at my lips. “A deal?” I echoed, my voice dripping with mockery. “You’re brave, young Di Carlo heir, to think you can bargain with me.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t falter. “I know how this works, Amara,” he said, his tone unwavering. “You can’t resist a deal. It’s in your nature.”

I chuckled darkly, allowing my power to surge. The air grew colder as my cloak materialized around my shoulders, its dark fabric billowing in the wind. For the first time, he wasn’t looking at me as his love, his Amara. He was seeing me as I truly was—the Goddess of Death.

“Careful,” I warned, my voice a deadly whisper. “You tread dangerous ground.”

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on mine. “What do you want, La Muerte?” I asked, my tone laced with mock curiosity.

He smiled, and it wasn’t the charming smile I’d grown used to. This was something darker, more calculating. “I want you to stay,” he said simply.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “And what could you possibly offer me in exchange?”

“I’ll give you my soul,” he said, without hesitation.

For the first time in centuries, I was genuinely taken aback. My smirk faltered as I studied him, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. There was none.

“You’d sacrifice your soul for me?” I asked, my voice softer now, almost disbelieving.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “I’d sacrifice everything for you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I don’t want to lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

I felt my resolve waver, the weight of his words pressing against the walls I’d built around myself. This wasn’t just a deal to him—it was a declaration, a promise.

I tilted my head, my smirk returning, though it lacked its usual edge. “And what makes you think I’d accept such an offer?”

“Because you love me,” he said simply.

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and undeniable. I hated how easily he could strip me of my defenses, how effortlessly he could see through me.

I took a step back, my cloak billowing around me like a storm. “Very well,” I said, my voice regaining its usual authority. “I’ll consider your offer. But know this, Lucifer Salvatore Di Carlo—deals with death are never simple.”

He smiled, and this time, it was the smile I knew—the one that made my chest tighten and my resolve crumble. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As I turned away, my heart—or what was left of it—ached in a way I hadn’t felt in centuries. This wasn’t just a deal. It was a choice. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I could make it.

The cemetery was cloaked in a haunting beauty, the kind that mortals often feared but I found solace in. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade, the faint hum of passing souls weaving through the stillness. The moonlight bathed the graves in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the cracked stones and weathered statues.

I sat on the edge of a grave marked Manolo Salvatore Di Carlo, Lucifer’s grandfather. His name was etched into the granite with care, surrounded by wildflowers that seemed to thrive despite the neglect. This spot, far from the chaos of the mortal world, had become my sanctuary.

“Manolo,” I began softly, my voice carrying a weight I rarely let show, “I wonder if you can hear me. If you can see the mess your grandson and I have made of everything.”

The wind stirred, carrying with it the faint whispers of souls passing through, their translucent forms gliding silently around me. They were fragments of lives once lived, moving on to their final destinations. I watched them for a moment, envying their certainty.

“I’ve lived countless lives,” I continued, my gaze fixed on the headstone. “I’ve ruled realms, commanded legions, and made gods tremble. But here I am, sitting by your grave, talking to a man who was already dead , because I don’t know what else to do.”

The weight of my words hung in the air, and for the first time in centuries, I felt small. Mortal.

“I love him,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’m not meant to stay. The longer I’m here, the more the world reminds me of that. Yet, leaving feels like... dying. Truly dying.”

A rustle behind me broke the silence, and I turned to see Enzo approaching. His presence was as steady as ever, his dark eyes filled with understanding.

“You’ve been here a while,” he said, his tone gentle. “Talking to the dead won’t change the rules, La Muerte.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not looking to change the rules, Enzo. I’m looking for a loophole.”

He sat beside me, his gaze following mine to the headstone. “You know what staying means,” he said after a moment. “It’s not just about love. It’s about sacrifice.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice firm. “And I’m willing to make it.”

Enzo studied me for a long moment before nodding. “There’s a way,” he said finally. “But it comes with a price.”

“Doesn’t everything?” I asked, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

He continued, his tone grave. “If you stay, you’ll live as a mortal. You’ll age like them, feel pain like them. But you’ll also have to bear the responsibilities of La Muerte. The souls will still come to you, the balance will still rest on your shoulders.”

“And when he dies?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“You’ll vanish,” Enzo said. “Completely. Like you never existed.”

The words hit me like a blow, but I nodded. “If that’s the price, I’ll pay it.”

Enzo’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

I turned to the grave, placing a hand on the cold stone. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The walk back to Lucifer’s home was heavier than I anticipated. Each step felt like a goodbye to the life I’d known, a life of power and immortality. But as I approached the terrace where he stood, the weight lifted.

He turned as I stepped into the light, his usual smirk fading as he saw my tear-streaked face. “Amara?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

I crossed the distance between us, my hands trembling as I cupped his face. “Lucifer,” I began, my voice breaking, “I’ve made my choice.”

His brows furrowed, his hands coming up to grip mine. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m staying,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears. “But there’s a cost.”

He searched my eyes, his own filling with a mix of relief and fear. “What cost?”

“I’ll live as a mortal,” I explained. “I’ll age, feel pain, bear the weight of my duties. And when your time comes... I’ll vanish. Completely.”

His grip on my hands tightened, his jaw clenching. “No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you do this.”

I smiled, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You don’t have a choice, Lucifer. This is my decision.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me as if letting go would shatter him. “You’re insane,” he whispered against my hair.

“Maybe,” I replied, my voice muffled against his chest. “But I love you. And for once in my existence, I want to choose love.”

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, when he finally pulled back, his eyes were filled with a determination that matched my own.

“If you’re staying,” he said, his voice low and possessive, “then you’re mine. For as long as we have, you’re mine.”

I smirked through my tears. “Always so dramatic.”

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “It’s part of my charm.”

I leaned into him, my lips brushing against his. “Then charm me, my baby boy .”

And as his lips claimed mine, I knew that no matter how fleeting our time might be, it would be worth every moment.

Three years. It had been three years since I married the goddess of Death. And let me tell you, life with Amara was anything but ordinary.

Today was one of those days when the world seemed to revel in pitting us against each other. The Businessman of the Year award ceremony was tonight, and like every year, I was up against my wife. It was almost a tradition now—a battle of wits, charm, and power. She always made it interesting, teasing me about how she could win the award with a snap of her fingers if she really wanted to.

And yet, as I sat in my study, sipping on a glass of whiskey, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. She was out on her nightly duties as La Muerte, the goddess of Death, balancing the mortal world with the supernatural one. Even after she chose to stay here, her responsibilities never disappeared, and she handled them with a grace that left me in awe.

Enzo, who now ruled the underworld throne, often stopped by. He had become more than an ally—he was a brother, a best friend. Together, we shared stories, laughter, and the occasional drink. It was strange how life had changed. From the blood-soaked streets of my youth to this—peaceful chaos.

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the photographs on the shelf. There we were—Amara and I, in every corner of the world. From Paris to Kyoto, from the Sahara to the Amazon. Most of our travels were tied to her name, La Muerte, but we had carved out moments of love and laughter amidst it all.

She was still as sassy and sharp-tongued as ever, and I loved every bit of it. Her beauty was otherworldly, and yet, I noticed the subtle changes—her mortal aging. She grew even more stunning with each passing year, her presence commanding and her smile devastating.

I chuckled to myself, thinking about how she had fought against gods, rules, and even herself for me. For us. My life had been anything but normal—losing my parents, taking the mafia throne as a child, enduring years of training and bloodshed. And then she entered my life like a storm, turning everything upside down. I was obsessed with her, fell for her, lost her, and then got her back.

And now, she was my wife. Mrs. Amara Lucifer Salvatore Di Carlo. I smirked at the name. She ruled this world with that name, blending her identities seamlessly—goddess of Death and the queen of my heart.

The sound of the front door opening broke my thoughts. I glanced at the clock—it was late, even for her. I set down my glass and made my way to the living room, where she stood, her cloak shimmering faintly before dissolving into nothingness.

“Busy night?” I asked, leaning against the doorway.

She turned, her lips curving into that smirk that always managed to undo me. “Busy enough. Though I’d say you missed me more than usual.”

I crossed the room in a few strides, pulling her into my arms. “Always,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her laughter was soft, her hands resting on my chest. “Careful, Lucifer. You’re getting soft.”

“For you? Always.”

We settled on the couch, her head resting against my shoulder. The silence between us was comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared memories.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said after a while, her voice quieter than usual.

“That sounds dangerous,” I teased, earning a playful swat on my arm.

“I’m serious,” she said, pulling back to look at me. Her eyes, those mesmerizing pools of darkness, held something I couldn’t quite place.

“What is it?” I asked, my tone softening.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “Do you remember what I said about mortality? About what it means for me to stay here with you?”

I nodded, my heart tightening at the thought. “Of course.”

“Well,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips, “it seems I’ve embraced it more than I thought.”

I frowned, confused. “Moon , what are you—”

Her hand moved to mine, guiding it to rest on her stomach. For a moment, I didn’t understand. And then it hit me.

“You’re—”

“Pregnant,” she finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

The world seemed to stop. My mind raced, trying to process her words. Amara, the goddess of Death, was carrying our child.

“Say something,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

I pulled her closer, my lips crashing against hers in a kiss that held all the love, awe, and gratitude I couldn’t put into words. When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers.

“You’ve given me everything,” I whispered. “And now this... Moon , I don’t deserve you.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You deserve everything, Lucifer. And so does this child. He or she will be Normal though unlike me .”  I kissed her and said , " he or she will be our child no matter if they will carry her mother's powers too ".

I held her for what felt like an eternity, my heart full in a way I never thought possible.

“Mrs. Amara Lucifer Salvatore Di Carlo,” I said, my voice filled with emotion, “you are the most extraordinary woman in every realm. And I will spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you and our family.”

Her laughter was soft, her fingers brushing against my cheek. “You already are, my love.”

And as we sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms . For the first time in our chaotic life , I felt complete.

Yeah, I fell in love with her—the goddess of Death.

Our story isn’t the kind you find in fairy tales. It’s raw, chaotic, and filled with battles that most wouldn’t dare to face. But when has my life ever been normal?

I grew up in the shadows, molded by tragedy, forged by blood. The mafia throne wasn’t a choice—it was survival. And just when I thought I’d seen everything this brutal world had to offer, she walked into my life.

Amara. La Muerte. The goddess of Death.

She wasn’t meant to stay. She wasn’t meant to love. But against every rule, every law of the universe, she did. She chose me.

And I? I chose HER.

It wasn’t easy. Loving her meant accepting a world beyond my understanding—a world of souls, sins, and eternal responsibilities. But she also taught me to see beauty in the chaos. She showed me the strength in vulnerability, the light hidden within the darkest corners of existence.

We fought battles—against gods, against fate, against ourselves. Yet, every challenge only brought us closer. I saw her not just as the goddess who ruled over death, but as the woman who gave my life meaning.

Now, years later, as I sit in our home, watching her move through the room with that effortless grace, I can’t help but marvel at how far we’ve come. She’s still sassy, still sharp-tongued, and still the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Our son, a perfect blend of her strength and my determination, sleeps peacefully in the next room. He doesn’t know yet what an extraordinary mother he has, but one day he will.

I look at her now, her eyes meeting mine, and I see the love that has defied every rule, every boundary.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I still can’t believe you’re mine,” I reply, pulling her into my arms.

She smirks, her head resting against my chest. “You’re lucky, Salvatore. Not everyone gets to marry the goddess of Death.”

“And not everyone gets to fall in love with her,” I say, my voice soft.

She looks up at me, her expression tender. “Do you regret it? The chaos, the battles, the sacrifices?”

“Never,” I answer without hesitation. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Amara. Our story might be different, but it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

She smiles, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

I hold her close, my heart full in a way I never thought possible. Our story might not be conventional, but it’s ours—a tale of love, defiance, and a bond that transcends life and death.

Yeah, I fell in love with her—the goddess of Death.

And in doing so, I found Life.

Hello, my lovely readers! It's your author Megh here 🧿❤️

Thank you for loving Lucifer and la muerte as much as I do!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the epilogue—feel free to share how you felt while reading it! Pleaseeeeeee!!!!!!!!🥹

Aapke author ke saath Bane rahiye ...aisi bohot kahaniyan hai dil mein jo ab likhna hai aap logon k liye .......

yeh toh  sirf ek kahani

thiii ....

(Stay tuned for more stories from my heart. There are many more tales waiting to be written just for you.

This was just one story among many...)