Epilogue #2
The first package Oliver opened was a thick manila envelope delivered by courier the day before. The return address was from Davidson's law firm.
Oliver's hands trembled slightly as he opened it. Inside was a certified check for an amount that made his eyes widen, along with a letter. As he read it, his expression shifted from shock to disbelief to something like reverence.
"What is it?" Emmet asked, picking up the envelope and turning it in his hands.
"It's from Davidson," Oliver said, his voice rough with emotion. "He died two months ago."
The room fell silent. Everyone knew who Davidson was to Oliver, and what his death meant.
"He left this for us." Oliver handed the check to Emmet, and the latter gasped, hand covering his mouth and tears brimming in his eyes.
"It's the full amount he benefited from the stolen estate, with interest. He wrote that this is his final penance, his attempt to make things right before he died. "
The amount was substantial—enough to cover all of Oliver's student loans and release him from the financial burden he'd carried for years.
"Does this mean..." Emmet let the question hang.
Oliver nodded, a small smile forming. "It means we're free, Quark. No more debt. No more worrying about tuition, about transition costs. No more second jobs."
The relief that washed over his face made my heart ache. He'd been carrying that weight for so long, it had become part of him. Seeing it lifted was like watching someone stand straight after years of bending under a heavy load.
Tobias, who'd been peering over Oliver's shoulder, let out a dramatic groan. "So, I guess this means you're definitely quitting RAD? That sucks, man." He clutched his chest in mock despair. "The ladies of Seattle will weep. Their favorite rent-a-boyfriend, gone forever."
“I, for one, am not complaining,” I said, and everyone chuckled. I was fine with Oliver working at Foxy’s, I trusted him, but I was more than happy to have him all to myself.
My father cleared his throat, drawing our attention. He handed Oliver another package, this one wrapped in simple green paper.
"This is from all of us," he said, gesturing to include me, my mother, Parisa, and Daryll.
Oliver unwrapped it carefully, revealing what looked like a photo album. When he opened it, his breath caught.
Inside were dozens of photos of his grandparents' house in Norman—not as it had been, neglected and decaying, but as it was becoming. The first photos showed workers clearing overgrown shrubs and repairing the roof. Then came images of freshly painted walls, new windows, restored hardwood floors.
But the centerpiece was a series of photos of the newly rebuilt greenhouse attached to the back of the house—his grandmother's favorite place, now restored to its former glory with gleaming glass panels and cedar framing.
"We've been working on it for months," I explained softly. "Starting with the greenhouse because you said that's where your grandmother was happiest."
"You're restoring it?" Oliver's voice was barely a whisper, his fingers tracing the photos.
"We saw how much it hurt you to see your grandparents’ house the way it was, so we decided to do something about it."
“Why?” Oliver asked, eyes still fixed on the images in front of him
"Because you’re part of this family, Oliver," my father said, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder.
Oliver stared at the photos, his jaw working as he struggled to control his emotions. Without a word, he stood and left the room, disappearing down the hallway toward our bedroom.
I found him sitting on the edge of our bed, the photo album open on his lap.
"You okay?" I asked softly, keeping my distance, giving him space to process.
"Overwhelmed," he admitted, his voice strained. "Like I don't deserve this."
"You do," I said firmly, certainty ringing in every syllable. "You always did."
Oliver turned to look at me, his eyes suspiciously bright behind his glasses.
"You know what's funny? For years, I had this certainty that I was meant to be alone.
That I was fundamentally incapable of the kind of connection other people seemed to find so easily.
I built my entire life around that belief—keep moving, keep working, take care of the people that matter, but keep everyone at a distance. "
I moved to sit beside him, our shoulders touching. "And now?"
"Now I have this," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the living room, where laughter and conversation continued. "People who care. People who..." He swallowed hard. "I have a family. And I have no idea what I did to deserve any of it."
I leaned my head on his shoulder. "You existed, Oliver Beck. That's all you ever had to do."
He let out a shaky breath, turning to press a kiss to the top of my head. "There's only one thing that could make this day even more perfect," he said quietly.
I tilted my head, curious. "Oh?"
"If you say yes."
And then he was reaching into his bedside drawer, pulling out a small velvet box. My breath caught as he opened it, revealing a ring nestled inside.
The emerald centerpiece caught the sunlight pouring from the window, and the diamond cluster on both sides twinkled like little stars, all set in a gold band made from two strips of gold welded to intertwine like the Milky Way.
"I had this whole elaborate speech prepared," he said, a nervous laugh escaping him.
"About cosmic improbabilities and gravitational constants and how you realigned my entire universe. I was going to quote E. E. Cumming.” He paused to think for a moment.
“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars. "
“That’s really good,” I whispered, pulse racing, heart about to explode with anticipation and joy.
“Tobias thought so as well.” Oliver looked down at the ring in his hand. “He also liked the part where I said that when the emerald caught the sun, it was like looking at the fire in your eyes.”
"You practiced on Tobias?" I asked, unable to keep the laughter from my voice.
Oliver's cheeks flushed. "I needed feedback."
“What did he say?”
“Less science, more romance.” Oliver smiled ruefully.
“I thought he was oversimplifying something that should be special, but sitting here, with you, with all those people who love us in the next room.
.." He swallowed hard. "I just want to be yours, Zahra.
Completely, permanently, cosmically yours. "
Tears blurred my vision as he slid off the bed, kneeling before me, still holding the box up toward me.
"Zahra, will you marry me?"
The world narrowed down to this moment—this man, this love, this life we had built from nothing but trust and hope.
A thousand memories flashed through my mind—his reluctance when I'd first booked him, our kiss under the rose arch, the way he'd looked at me that first time we made love, all the doubt and fear and joy that had led us here.
I smiled, lifting my left hand.
"Oliver Nazarian," I said in a wistful voice. "I like the sound of that."
His face broke into the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," I laughed, pulling him to his feet. "A thousand times, yes."
He slid the ring onto my finger, then lifted me off my feet, spinning me around as joy bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me. And when he set me down, his lips found mine in a kiss that tasted of forever.