Epilogue
Tristan
Three Months Later
W eddings are a bittersweet ordeal for me. They remind me of what I don’t have.
As the music swells, I glance around the room at my siblings—each of them glowing with that unmistakable happiness that comes with finding the one who completes you.
Ethan and Ava share a quiet moment, their heads close together. Fiona and Jonathan are deep in conversation, hands intertwined. Devin and Maya are lost in their own world, their love radiating between them.
And then there’s Zack and Bianca at center stage, dancing like the world belongs to them.
The Wolfe siblings—once a force of nature, untamed and wild—are now settling down, one by one. All except me.
I force a smile and lean back in my chair. The band transitions into another love song, and couples sway together. I feel like an outsider, looking in on a world that I used to be a part of but can’t seem to re-enter.
My mind drifts back to the art landscapes that haunt my penthouse, the ones that speak to a part of me I don’t quite understand. The artist remains a mystery, elusive, like the love I once had and lost. I’ve tried to find her, but she’s always just out of reach.
I shake off the thought and take another swig of beer. The night is young, but I already feel old, worn out by the missed chances and what-ifs. As I look at my siblings and their newlyweds, a pang of envy hits me. They had the courage to go after what they wanted, even when it meant risking everything.
“Here’s to you, Zack,” I murmur, raising the bottle in a silent toast. “You did it. You found your forever.”
I take a long pull from the bottle, the bitterness of the beer blending with the bitterness in my soul. The music, the laughter, and the celebration—it all fades into the background as I retreat into my thoughts.
Love is not for me. I’ve chased it long enough to know that some things are just beyond my grasp. But power and control—those are things I can hold onto. So, I’ll stick to what I’m good at.
I stand, brushing off the lingering traces of yearning, and setting the final empty bottle down. Let my siblings have their happy endings. I know better now.
Love isn’t in the cards for me, and I’m done pretending it ever will be.