Epilogue
Matilda
“Baby, where are you?” I say as Henry answers my call.
“I’m five minutes away, sunshine. Is everyone waiting for me?
” I can hear his stress at running late for my big day.
A smile spreads across my face just at the thought of seeing him so soon.
He’s been busy this month with his biggest client yet, and I’ve been completely consumed by my first official project as a architect.
Today happened to be my first ever handover day.
The project was completed and handed over to the client, and my family decided they wanted to host a BBQ in celebration, of course, James— Henry dad is here with us.
Oh—this may be a good time to mention I no longer work for Chase Architects.
I actually never went back after the accident.
When Henry and I sorted ourselves out, I decided I needed to find my own way.
Working under Henry while being in a relationship with him would have put too much strain on us when we were already so fragile.
I needed stability in all areas of my life, so I made the decision to go it on my own and find a small firm that would take me on.
I stayed with them for six months until I was accepted at a larger firm as a Junior Architect.
I would love to say that Henry had no sway in this, but as soon as the firm saw I’d worked four years at Chase Architects—plus with the glowing recommendation Henry gave—they hired me pretty quickly.
Not to mention the untold amount of support Henry has given me over the past year. This month, though, we’ve both been so swamped that we’ve barely seen each other. But tonight that’s going to change, because we now have four beautiful days planned together.
Henry agreed to go back to the cabin with me.
It took a lot of convincing, but I want that cabin to be remembered for where we truly began and the love we shared there—not the disaster that happened at the end.
It’s also a way for Henry to face his fears about that day, to help process and find forgiveness in himself.
I forgave him pretty early on, but I know it still weighs on him.
He still has his dark days, but he has kept his promise and never shut me out.
He talks things through with me, every single time.
It took a long time to get us through those dark days to start off with.
He started going to grief counseling. He tried a couple different therapists until he found one he really felt understood him and since then he has been seeing her regularly.
He has gotten a lot better at opening up about his feelings but he still can’t drive in storms to this day.
He also knows I don’t want to fix him, just to be there to support him and love him and I think that helps.
He still tries to get me to run with him on Sundays, but that happened once and will never happen again.
And it was a hard no to ice showers together.
My family were very skeptical at first, and it took a lot to bring them around.
To my surprise, Rachel was the first to warm to him.
She mentioned to me months later that she went to see him at Chase Architects but never fully told me what was said between them.
Whatever it was, though, it formed an understanding between the two of them.
“No baby, everyone has just got here.”
“Do you need me to grab anything?”
“No, baby, just yourself please.”
“Okay. God, I’ve missed you.” he hums. .
“I’ve missed you too. So excited for this weekend.”
“Me too, sunshine. Is Sunny excited?” Oh yeah, I forgot—we got a “Sunny”. Our all-white Pomsky. He sits beside me, wagging his tail furiously at the sound of Henry’s voice over the phone.
“Oh yeah, you ready for your first holiday, baby boy?” I coo, stroking his silky fur.
“Hey, sunshine?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you let me in?” Then I hear a gentle knock at the door and my heart damn near somersaults.
I run, swinging the door open to see him—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. My Henry.
I throw myself into his arms and he catches me easily.
“You’re here,” I say, nuzzling into his neck.
“Always, sunshine.”
Henry
Two Years Later.
It’s been two year since the accident — since the rain, the sirens, the moment I thought I’d lost her forever.
Now the forest hums with life again, the trees bathed in the soft gold of a late-summer evening. The air smells of pine and wood smoke. The firepit crackles behind us.
Matilda is sitting on the porch steps wrapped in one of my old jumpers, legs tucked beneath her, hair loose and wild. She nurses a mug of wine — because she insisted wine tastes better in mugs out here.
God, she’s beautiful.
I watch her in silence, memorising the way her curls dance in the breeze, the way her nose scrunches when she smiles.
It’s impossible not to think about the first time we were here — the emotions I felt, all fire and want, but unsure how to give her my heart.
But tonight there’s no hesitation, no questions.
Just peace. I love her with everything I possess, and no it’s not perfect, we’re not perfect, I’m certainly not perfect. But she is perfect for me.
My world.
My healing.
“Hey, baby,” she calls, glancing over her shoulder. “You look a million miles away.”
“Just thinking,” I murmur.
“Dangerous.”
I smile softly, because she’s said that before. “Not tonight.”
I step down onto the porch beside her. The wood creaks under my weight, the same familiar sound that’s been etched into my memory since childhood. We sit in quiet for a while, watching the fireflies flicker in the clearing, the world melting into twilight.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” she whispers. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”
I swallow hard. “I know.” My gaze drifts to her hand resting on her knee — the faint scar on her wrist where the seatbelt cut into her skin. My own reminder sits just above my temple, a thin white line that will never fade. “I didn’t think we’d make it back here.”
“But we did,” she says gently. “Together.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, and the simple act nearly breaks me.
“Matilda…” My voice catches. I take a breath, steadying it. “You once said you wanted to be the person I turn to when everything gets dark. You already are. You’ve been that person since the day you walked into my office with your ridiculous pink mug and your too-bright smile.”
She lets out a soft laugh, wiping at her cheek as tears begin to spill.
“You pulled me out of a place I didn’t think I could escape,” I continue, words tumbling out like they’ve been waiting years to be said. “I felt like I was drowning but you taught me how to breathe again, how to let someone in without falling apart. You made this broken man want to heal.”
Her eyes shine in the fading light, and I can feel the tremble in my own hands as I reach into my jacket pocket.
“I never thought this day would come for me” I say quietly, dropping to one knee on the porch boards that groan under me. The small velvet box feels impossibly heavy in my hand.
“Henry…” she breathes, her voice trembling.
“I never thought I was capable of this kind of love, never felt worthy of it. I believed I was broken and that no one could love me, for me. You showed me I was wrong. I love you with every fiber of my being. This cabin was the first place I ever felt peace,” I whisper, “and the first place I fell in love with you. So it feels right that it’s where I ask you this. ”
I open the box. The firelight catches the ring, scattering tiny shards of gold across her face.
“Matilda Green, will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, everything stops — the forest, the wind, even the fire seems to quiet. Her eyes fill with tears, her lips parting on a sharp inhale. Then she nods — once, twice — before a breathless laugh escapes her.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Of course I will.”
The world tilts. She’s suddenly in my arms, her mug forgotten, her hands framing my face as she kisses me — deep, slow, certain. The kind of kiss that feels like coming home.
When we finally break apart, I press my forehead to hers, both of us smiling through tears.
“I love you, sunshine,” I murmur.
She grins, brushing a tear from my cheek. “And I love you, Mr Chase.”
The fire crackles softly beside us as the stars bloom overhead. For the first time in years, I feel weightless — no ghosts, no fear, no darkness. Just her hand in mine, the promise of forever.
And this time, I know — I’ll never let her go.