Page 293 of The Professor's Wife

My heart jumped at the thought. Excitement moved through me, small but unmistakable.

“A new start.”

“A new start,” he confirmed.

I nodded, but disbelief still clung to me. The wind whipped my hair across my face, and I pressed the dragon tighter against me. I closed my eyes, letting the salt air sting my skin. For one moment, I allowed myself to imagine something beyond surviving the next hour.

“I used to have dreams,” I said quietly, almost ashamed. “Before him. Before all of this. I wanted to go to nursing school. I wanted to help people. I wanted to stand on my own two feet.”

“You still can.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “It feels so far away, Tristan. Like another life.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s gone,” Tristan replied. “You choose what comes next, Daze.”

I looked down at the dragon stuffy, the fabric worn from Rowe’s small hands. My chest ached, but beneath the grief was something lighter.

“I want to start over,” I admitted. “That’s my choice. I want a life that belongs tome.”

Tristan’s hand found mine.

“Then we keep driving,” he said, eyes bright. “And when summer ends, you start to live your dreams.”

The mainland rose slowly ahead of us while the island thinned behind.

My heart still trembled with fear, but Oliver had not found us during the night. Nor did he stop the ferry, or stand nearby, hiding in plain sight.

Now, I pretended it was Rowe against my chest as I watched the distance grow.

It wasn’t enough. Not without him. Without June. But…

“I’m going to try to live, Rowe,” I whispered to him.

I had no other option.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

One Year Later…

A butterfly settled on the palm of my hand. I stilled, my gaze trapped on it.

Its wings shimmered, soft amber flecked with indigo. Around me, the coffee shop hummed with the usual midday rhythm: steam hissing from the espresso machine, the low murmur of conversation, the clink of mugs meeting tabletops. But all of it faded, dulled beneath the weight of this moment.

The butterfly didn’t move.

Neither did I.

Something changed before I understood what it was. The noise around me dulled, and a strange pressure settled over my skin. My smile remained, but the rest of me went still. Behind me, someone laughed. A barista called out a name. But it all sounded distant.

The butterfly tilted its wings and, just like that, it was gone. Lifted into the air, wings slicing through the stillness, out the door and into the light.

I stared at my empty palm, the warmth of its touch already fading.

Something felt off.

I blinked, stepped forward, and the world resumed its rhythm. The barista handed me my coffee with a smile I barely registered. I murmured thanks and left.

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh. It was early fall and the air was cool. I walked down the familiar path toward the university.