Page 161 of Never After Us
Like he’s seeing a life he thought he’d never touch again.
“She sent me a letter,” he says, voice hoarse.“About a year ago.Told me about you.About her life.Said she might not make it.Said if you ever came ...”He stops, blinks hard.“I didn’t think she would.I didn’t think you were real.”
I want to be strong, to stand tall, to meet this moment like the adult I am.
But all I feel is like a little girl in a too-big world, finally meeting the man who wasn’t there on her birthdays.
The man who missed her first steps, her scraped knees, the concerts and heartbreaks and late-night fevers.
The man who missed me because he was a prisoner.
“I’m Mara,” I say, tears flooding my eyes, falling freely now.“I’m ...I’m your daughter.”
He stumbles, literally stumbles backward, one hand catching the edge of a small table.His knees buckle, and for a terrifying second, I think he might collapse.
But then he steadies, drags in a breath like it’s the first one he’s taken in years, and lifts his eyes back to mine.There’s no rejection there, just grief.
And wonder.
“It seems like I missed everything,” he whispers, his voice wrecked.“But I don’t want to miss anything else.Please.Come in.I’ve got tea.Coffee.And all the time in the world to learn about you.”
My feet move before I can think.
And the second I cross that threshold—into this warm, creaky house that smells like cedar and hay and something like hope—something inside me breaks.
Not in a bad way.
But in the way, old pain finally lets go.
In the way forgotten children finally get found.
She’s not here.
Lina is gone.
But she left this.
She left him.
She left a door for me to knock on and a man who opened it.
And maybe—just maybe—this is the beginning of something that doesn’t hurt to hold.
Epilogue
Alec
Okay, this is it.I’m ready.
Who am I kidding?I’m anything but ready.
I’ve performed in front of thirty thousand people and never once felt like I might puke, pass out, or sprint in the opposite direction.
Tonight?
Yeah.All three.
My palms are sweating through my shirt.My heart hasn’t slowed in fifteen minutes.The ring box in my back pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.And Mila—my tiny, terrifying accomplice—is skipping ahead of me like we’re just going out for ice cream.
