Life was more complicated than a silly romance novel no matter how much one wished it wasn't. Good and evil weren't absolute. No one lived in black or white, but in varying shades of grey. Even though she knew her life wasn't a romance, she was thankful for it. Thankful that she was given a second chance to make it better than she ever dreamed. There would be mistakes, of course. Plenty of days would pass when she would look at her husband and wonder why she loved him. Or she would grow frustrated with their children and long for at least a few days on the run again where no one could find her to bother her. There would even be times that she regretted Rodolphus getting hit with the curse that could've easily been hers. Death wasn't as frightening as living.