Epilogue
ALEJANDRA
Ya No Me Joden Las Fiestas - Paula Mattheus
A month and a half later
It was nice being back home, especially because they were about to embark on a month-long trip through the States to see what that idiot Mick Turner had left his kids.
Because of that, Alejandra had decided to invite all her closest friends and family to her house in Conil to celebrate her birthday.
Sofia and Ilias flew in from Brazil, fresh from his first title win of the season, which he had dedicated to their future baby. Her parents arrived a little earlier with Carlos, already moving through setting everything up for everyone else’s arrival.
A couple of days later, Gabriella came with Maria and the twins, the house filling quickly with the sound of voices, footsteps, and the constant opening and closing of doors.
Callum arrived with Asma and Leif. The two of them barely left each other’s side, always touching—hands brushing, shoulders leaning in, stolen kisses in the kitchen when they thought no one was looking.
It was endearing, the kind of easy affection that made Alejandra quietly smile to herself whenever she caught them.
On the other side of the house, things were anything but easy.
Whatever had happened—or rather, hadn’t happened—between Amira and Carlos had turned him into the grumpiest person alive, while Amira seemed perfectly committed to pretending he didn’t exist. They moved around each other like charged silence, close enough to feel but never close enough to touch.
It was painful to watch, and Alejandra wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it.
According to Ilias, there was nothing to fix. Carlos just had to move on with his life.
Alejandra wasn’t convinced. And judging by Sofia’s expression whenever Carlos and Amira were in the same room, neither was she.
She had invited Eira and taid too, even Leonor, but they had all declined, sending their birthday wishes from afar instead.
Conil was full of people—summer had officially arrived—and it felt like going back in time, right before her pro career had kicked off.
The crash of waves on the shore filtered through the open window, the fresh sea air swirled around her, and Callum’s arm wrapped tightly around her midsection. It was bliss.
“I have to go down to the beach with Sofia,” Alejandra whispered in Callum’s ear.
“Mmmh,” he mumbled. “I’ll prepare breakfast.”
She kissed him deeply, threw on a bikini and an old tee she’d stolen from Callum’s wardrobe, and slipped out into the backyard with private access to the beach.
“Is Ilias still sleeping?” she asked when she found Sofia waiting alone, her belly popping more than last time. The baby was due in November.
“Yep. He was grumpy, so I left him there. It’s just us three.”
“Gabri?” Alejandra asked.
“Still asleep. And you know she’s never really liked surfing that much.”
Before 8 AM, surfers were allowed to surf anywhere along the Cádiz coast. After that, the beach shifted back into designated zones only, a quiet rule to keep them from colliding with swimmers drifting lazily in the shallows.
The morning was calm. Not the kind of ocean that demanded respect through fear, but the softer kind that almost tempted you into forgetting what it could become.
There weren’t many waves, but they were enough for Sofia’s taste—the small, playful ones she loved, the kind that didn’t ask for courage so much as timing. And for Alejandra, they were something else entirely.
A bridge.
A way back in.
She stayed a moment longer than Sofia before paddling out, letting the board cut through the water beneath her. The salt hit her skin immediately, and for a second her chest tightened in that instinctive way it still sometimes did now. Not fear exactly. Memory.
Pipeline wasn’t here, but her body still remembered it like it was.
The ocean didn’t care, though. It never did.
And maybe that was the only reason she trusted it again.
She eased herself into position, feeling the slow rhythm of the sea underneath her. Not overpowering. Not violent. Just movement—constant, living, patient. Each rise and fall of the water under her board reminded her that she was still part of it, not separate from it. Not an intruder.
When the first small wave lifted her, she didn’t hesitate.
Her muscles reacted before her thoughts could interfere. She stood, steady but aware, every movement measured. The board skimmed forward with a soft rush of water beneath it, and for a brief moment everything narrowed down to balance, breath, and sensation.
No hospital lights. No sirens. No memory of impact.
Just salt air in her lungs and the familiar pull of gravity trying to decide if it trusted her again.
She carved gently, not pushing the wave, just letting it carry her. And with each second that passed, something inside her unclenched a little more.
This wasn’t conquest. Not like before.
It was negotiation.
A quiet agreement between her and the sea: I am here, but I am listening now.
It wasn’t her first time back in the water since Pipeline. Callum had been with her the first time, close enough that she could hear his voice cutting through her panic when it rose too quickly.
She had survived that day too. And the ocean had let her. It always would.
But this time, as she rode the small Cádiz wave all the way through to its gentle collapse, she felt something different settle in her chest.
Not just survival. Belonging again.
“How do you feel?” Sofia asked as she paddled back towards her, seated on her board behind the impact zone. There was softness in that question, a tenderness of seeing how much it changed in less than a year and how much progress she had already made.
“Good. Very good,” And she meant it. Beside her restored relationship with the ocean, life was treating her well.
Her injury was recovering faster than expected, Callum was relaxing during his sabbatical, and they had more time together, even if his father’s lawyers called daily to sort out the mess Mick Turner had left behind.
She couldn’t wait to try the wave pool. That year, her injury had made her miss Abu Dhabi and the wave pool event.
The idea of traveling to Arizona to try the Blue Fire Ranch pool made her kick her feet and giggle in excitement.
It was good to be back to feel like that when she thought about the water.
“And you?” Alejandra asked, bobbing in the water, enjoying the feeling she had missed for the past months. Her shoulder was taped up—Carlos had applied the physio tape the night before. It was going to ruin her tan, but it kept things in place.
“Very good. When the morning sickness doesn’t hit,” Sofia grinned. “But I found out whale songs calm her down.”
“Wait,” Alejandra paddled closer as Sofia smiled widely, caressing her belly under the swimsuit. “Do you know the sex?”
“Yes,” Sofia’s brown eyes sparkled. “I wanted to tell you here, in our place.”
Alejandra let out a laugh of happiness. “Oh my god, please tell me you’ll name her Alejandra.”
“Gosh, no.”
“Don’t call her Antonia. She’ll hate you forever. Plus, your dad didn’t want that.”
“Nope. Would you let me—”
“Alejandra Jr. II.”
Sofia snorted. “Layla.”
Alejandra beamed. “I love it. So cute.”
“I know,” Sofia squealed. “Ilias’s mom came up with it.”
Layla. Alejandra repeated the name. Sofia and Ilias’ baby will be named Layla.
“What does it mean?”
“It translates to night or dark beauty. I just loved the sound of it.”
“I love it.” Then she smirked, “It will be tough for her to find her name on those souvenirs, but I bet she’ll love it.”
Sofia chuckled.
“How are you and Ilias doing? Are you happy? You look happy,” Alejandra smiled.
“I’m the luckiest woman alive to have found him.”
Alejandra cleared her throat. “Still waiting on my thank-you basket for that PR stunt suggestion.”
“I thanked you at the wedding.”
“Not enough. I need it daily,” Alejandra teased. “But I should thank you too, for being Team Cale even when I wasn’t.”
Sofia smiled. “You just needed a push.”
“Maybe we both did. I’ll be forever thankful to have you in my life. We know each other so well, we see what the other needs, sometimes even before we know it ourselves.”
Sofia’s eyes shimmered. “You’re my best friend. And… Layla’s godmother, if you want to be.”
Alejandra’s eyes widened. “Are you baptizing her?”
“No, but I want to do a ceremony. A blessing.”
“A hippie one?”
“Maybe. Mamma’s already started the Catholic guilt, telling me if she’s not baptized she’ll go to hell and won’t see nonno.”
“Ugh. Classic Catholic blackmail.”
Sofia chuckled. “I just want the best for her. And with you, Ilias, Callum, our families… Layla will be safe. Loved.”
“She already is.” Then Alejandra added, “Remember Leonor, Callum’s half-sister?”
Sofia nodded.
“She said she’s a lone wolf. And I think… if I hadn’t met you, I could’ve been one too. The people around us shape us, and you’ve shaped me more than anyone.”
Sofia’s eyes welled up. “And you’ve shaped me. I love you, Alejandra.”
“I love you, Sofi.” They awkwardly hugged across their boards, Layla floating in the middle of them.
“Happy birthday,” Sofia beamed at her.
“Thanks. Thought you forgot.”
“No. I was waiting for the right moment. I’m proud of everything you’ve done this year. What you’ve overcome. You’re strong, Alejandra. Much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
“You’re making me cry.”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
They surfed for about an hour before the tide shifted and the waves began to soften, the ocean slowly losing its early-morning edge. They paddled back in, boards under arms, laughing and shivering slightly in the breeze as the sun climbed higher over Conil.
By the time they reached the house, the smell of breakfast was already drifting out onto the patio.
Callum and her parents were in charge.