15. Epilogues
Epilogues
Will
T he Uber pulls up to the curb outside my house, the familiar sight of its red brick and white-framed windows greeting me. I exhale deeply, leaning back for a moment before opening the door. My crutches are awkward as I step out, the driver offering a polite nod as I grab my bag and shut the car door behind me.
I fumble with my keys as I approach the door, balancing my crutches awkwardly. When I finally manage to push it open, I’m hit by a wave of warmth and the unmistakable smell of roast chicken wafting from the kitchen. For a moment, I freeze, my mind racing. I hadn’t left anything cooking.
“Hello?” I call out cautiously, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind me.
Her voice answers, soft but clear. “In here.”
Katie.
The bag slips from my shoulder, landing with a muted thud on the floor as I move toward the kitchen. She’s standing by the counter, wearing one of those casual, oversized sweaters that make her look impossibly cosy. A tea towel is slung over her shoulder, and her cheeks are flushed, either from the heat of the oven or... something else.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice quiet, disbelief colouring my tone.
She sets down the plate she’s holding and wipes her hands nervously on the tea towel. “I let myself in,” she says, almost apologetically. “I thought... well, I wasn’t sure how the meeting would go, and I didn’t want you to come back to an empty house.”
I stare at her, the words catching in my throat. “Katie, you didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” she interrupts, stepping closer. Her eyes search mine, and I see the flicker of worry there. “How was it? The meeting?”
I lower myself onto one of the kitchen chairs, my crutches leaning awkwardly against the table. “They said there was nothing we could have done differently. That it wasn’t anyone’s fault.” The words feel hollow as they leave my mouth, the weight of the truth still settling in.
Her expression softens, and she sits down across from me, her hand reaching out to rest lightly on mine. “And you? How are you feeling?”
I let her question hang in the air, my gaze drifting to where our hands meet. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet my chest feels heavy with the lingering weight of everything. “It’ll take me a while,” I admit quietly, my voice low. “To get to grips with... all of it.”
She nods, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. There’s no rush in her, no urgency, just an openness that pulls at something deep inside me. “Well,” she says softly, “I’m here. To help, to listen. If you still want that. ”
Her words carry more than just support—they’re probing, tentative, as if she’s bracing herself for an answer she’s afraid to hear. It’s her way of asking if I’ve changed my mind, if I’ve decided to push her away.
I tighten my hold on her hand, shaking my head. “Katie, I meant what I said. I want this. I want us.” I look her in the eyes, hoping she can see the conviction there. “If anything, I’m more sure now than ever.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s trying to hold back tears. But then she gives me the smallest, wobbliest smile. “You’re really sure?”
I nod. “I’ve spent so much time running, Katie. From one place to another, from one mission to the next. But I don’t want to run anymore. I want to be here. With you and Phoebe. No more missions, no more excuses. Just... here.”
Her smile grows, bright and unguarded, and she lets out a shaky laugh. “You have no idea how good it is to hear that.”
I reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I do, actually. Because it’s good to finally say it.”
She laughs again, the sound soft and full of relief, and she squeezes my hand before standing. “Well, Mr Determined, you better eat something. I made roast chicken, and I won’t let it go to waste.”
As she moves toward the kitchen, I can’t help but watch her, taking in the ease of her movements, the familiarity that feels like home, and the warmth that’s uniquely Katie. A wave of gratitude hits me hard, unbidden and undeniable.
“Katie,” I call softly .
She pauses mid-step and turns to face me, her brow lifting in question. “Yes?”
“I love you,” I say, the words deliberate and steady. “I never stopped, and I don’t want to keep pretending I can move forward without you.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes widening. For a moment, she just stares at me, and I can see the flicker of emotions crossing her face—surprise, relief, and something deeper. “You mean that?” she whispers.
I nod, my chest tight. “I do. I’ve been scared and stubborn, but I don’t want to be without you. Not again.”
A slow, tender smile spreads across her face, and she steps closer, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “I love you too, Will,” she says softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I never stopped either.”
The weight I’ve been carrying for so long eases, and I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. We hold each other tightly, the silence between us filled with everything we don’t need to say out loud. When I finally pull back, I rest my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling.
“Katie,” I say, a playful grin tugging at my lips. “Marry me. Again.”
Her laugh bubbles up, light and incredulous, and she pulls back to look me in the eye. “Seriously? Right now?”
I shrug, my grin widening. “Why not? It’s not like we just met. We know each other in and out. And I’m here to stay.”
She shakes her head, laughing even as her eyes shimmer with emotion. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“And you love me anyway,” I counter, smirking .
She leans in and kisses me, slow and certain, before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Yes, Will. I’ll marry you again.”
It’s crazy, but hearing her say yes now feels a thousand times better than when she said yes the first time. Maybe it’s because we had to fight for this one, or maybe it’s because I didn’t think I could have this happiness again. Whatever it is, I will remember this feeling for the rest of my life, and this time, I will make sure it lasts forever.
“Good. Now let’s eat before the chicken gets cold,” I say, like she didn’t just make me the happiest person in the world.
Her laugh fills the room as she grabs my hand, guiding me toward the kitchen. For the first time in years, everything feels exactly as it should—Katie, Phoebe, me, and a future I can't wait to share with them again.
Mel
Four weeks have passed since the meeting, and though my days are filled with emails, spreadsheets, and quiet routines, I’ve started to find comfort in the steadiness of it all. My new role keeps me grounded, but it’s the evenings I look forward to the most—when Owen and I can shut out the world and just be .
As I step into the flat, the familiar scent of melted butter and caramel wafts through the air. I kick off my shoes, my lips curling into a smile as I spot Owen in the living room. He’s spread out a mattress on the floor, the coffee table pushed aside to make room. Blankets are piled high, fairy lights twinkle along the walls, and a bowl of popcorn sits in his lap.
“Welcome home,” he says, giving me a grin that makes my heart flip.
“You really committed to the movie night setup, huh?” I tease, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto the armchair.
“Go big or go home,” he replies, patting the spot beside him. “You, my dear, look like someone who needs to be horizontal immediately.”
I laugh, dropping my bag by the door and walking over to collapse dramatically onto the mattress. “You’re not wrong. Today was a stationery-order nightmare.”
“Oh no, not the dreaded stationery debacle,” he says with mock horror, pulling me into his side.
“What’s on tonight?” I ask, nodding at the TV.
“Something uplifting. Galaxy Quest. You’re welcome.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. “You know me too well.”
We settle into the blankets, the film starting in the background as I let myself sink into the warmth of him. Owen leans down to kiss me, and this time, there’s nothing quick or casual about it. His lips move against mine, slow and deliberate, and when his hand cups the side of my face, my breath catches. For a moment, I forget the day, work, everything except him .
“You taste like caramel,” I murmur when we finally break apart.
“Popcorn magic,” he replies with a smirk, pressing another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “You should try it.”
I giggle, swatting at his arm, and just like that, the tension of the day melts away.
Halfway through the movie, Owen sits up suddenly. “Oh! I almost forgot. Some official-looking letter came for you earlier.”
He reaches over to the coffee table and grabs an envelope, handing it to me. I frown, taking it from him. It doesn’t look like the usual invoices or dull paperwork, just a neatly handwritten address and my name.
“I’m hoping this isn’t bad news,” Owen jokes as I carefully tear it open.
“Me too,” I mutter, pulling out the card. My eyes widen as I take in the elegant script. Will and Katie invite you to celebrate their wedding.
“Well?” Owen asks, his curiosity piqued.
I hold it up, a grin spreading across my face. “Will’s getting married.”
“To his ex?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I nod, warmth blooming in my chest. “Yep. To Katie.”
Owen whistles. “Good for him. Are we going?”
“Of course we are,” I say, already imagining seeing Jon and Will again in happier circumstances.
It strikes me how much has changed since the incident. We weren’t close before—not really—but in the aftermath, something shifted. Shared trauma does that, I guess. Now, the three of us are in a WhatsApp group where we send each other updates, random memes, and check in with each other more than I ever thought we would. It’s strange, this connection we’ve built, but it’s also comforting.
“Perfect,” Owen says, pulling me back into his arms. “But for now, I vote we finish this movie, eat too much popcorn, and talk about that wedding later.”
I let him envelop me in the blankets, the invitation still clutched in my hand. As I lean into his warmth, I realise how far I’ve come since that day. Life isn’t perfect, but it’s moving forward. And tonight, it feels like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be.
Owen’s hand hovers over the remote, and before I can react, the movie freezes mid-scene. I blink at the TV, then at him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, half-laughing, half-annoyed.
He turns to face me, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Just thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I tease, but there’s something in his expression that makes me pause. “What’s on your mind?”
He fiddles with the remote, tapping it lightly against his knee. “Do you think... we’ll ever get married?”
My stomach does an unexpected flip, and for a moment, I just stare at him. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting, trying to process the words.
“I... what?” I finally manage, my voice more breathless than I’d like.
Owen’s grin turns a little crooked, a bit more self-conscious. “You heard me. I’m not saying we rush off to Vegas tomorrow or anything. Just... you know. Someday. ”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling my cheeks warm. “Are you proposing right now? Because if this is how you propose, I’m going to need to coach you.”
He laughs, his head falling back against the sofa cushion. “Not proposing, no. I’d at least need a ring, right? And maybe a better setting than surrounded by popcorn crumbs and fairy lights.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I quip, though my voice wobbles slightly. “Because if you were proposing, I’d have to say no. It’s too soon.”
“Agreed,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “Way too soon. We’ve been dating for what, a few months? I’m not an idiot.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Debatable.”
“Harsh,” he shoots back, pretending to clutch his heart. “But fair.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then his voice softens.
“I’m just saying... I wouldn’t mind it. You and me, someday. Doesn’t sound half bad, does it?”
Something catches in my chest, but I keep my tone light, teasing. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Very lucky,” he says, his eyes warm and steady on mine. "But you know what? I might actually love you. Love you like mad."
"If that's the case, I think I am ready to upgrade my like to a love," I giggle.
"Say it, Mel," he pleads.
"I love you, Owen. I love you more than I thought I would ever be able to love anyone. You're everything to me. You're the love of my life," I blurt out. Owen studies me for a second before kissing me deeply.
"Someday," he mumbles after kissing me senseless .
I smile, leaning back against the pile of cushions as he resumes the movie. But my mind is miles away now.
Someday.
The word lingers in my head, wrapping itself around my thoughts. It’s not something I’d ever considered seriously before, not after everything that happened. But now, sitting here with Owen, the idea doesn’t seem as impossible as it once did.
As he laughs at the movie, his arm draped casually over my shoulders, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s messy and infuriating and doesn’t always think before he speaks—but he’s also kind, steady, and makes me feel safer than I have in years.
And maybe, just maybe, someday doesn’t sound so bad after all.
Jon
The wedding reception is in full swing, laughter and music filling the air as couples twirl on the dance floor. Layla and Phoebe are darting between tables, giggling and twirling with wild abandon, their energy seemingly endless. Watching them, I can’t help but smile. Layla’s cheeks are flushed with excitement, and her laughter is the kind that makes the entire room feel lighter .
I glance over at Abigail. She’s sitting beside me, her hand resting lightly on my arm, her gaze fixed on the dance floor. The soft glow of the fairy lights catches in her hair, and there’s a quiet contentment in her expression that makes me want to drag her away from all these people so I can kiss her thoroughly.
“You look beautiful,” I say, leaning closer.
She turns to me with a smile, her cheeks warming slightly. “You’ve already told me that.”
“And I’m telling you again,” I reply, my voice low.
The song changes to something slower, and the bride and groom take to the centre of the floor. Will looks at Katie like she’s the only person in the room, his hand resting protectively on her waist. They sway together, completely lost in each other, and for a moment, the chaos of the world seems to fade away.
I lean over and press a kiss to Abigail’s temple. She turns to meet me, her smile soft and questioning.
“Mum called,” I say casually.
“Oh?” Her brow arches in curiosity. “What’s she got to say now?”
“She asked me when we’re getting married.”
Abigail freezes for half a second before laughing lightly, a little incredulously. “Did she now?”
“She did.” I grin. “She’s subtle like that.”
Abigail shakes her head, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the tablecloth. “And what did you say?”
“I told her it was too soon,” I reply, watching her closely. “And that’s true, isn’t it?”
She nods, her smile a little softer now. “It is. We’ve only had a few months, Jon. We’re still figuring things out. ”
“Agreed.” I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “But... Layla’s asked me the same thing.”
Abigail blinks at me, clearly caught off guard. “She has?”
“She’s six,” I say with a small laugh. “I think she just likes the idea of more sleepovers and fairy tales.”
Abigail laughs, her tension easing, but I don’t miss the flicker of something deeper in her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “I told her it’s too soon as well. But...” I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “Is it too soon for me to move in with you?”
Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide. “What?”
I take her hand in mine, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I’ve been doing some research. Contacted a few GP practices in the area. Turns out the Yorkshire Dales Medical Practice is looking for a paediatrician.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I press on.
“It’s everything I’ve been looking for, Abby. A slower pace, more time to focus on the things that matter. More time to be with you and Layla. If you’ll have me.”
I see a whole range of emotions flicker across her face: surprise, disbelief, hope. She lets out a shaky laugh. “Are you serious?"
“Completely,” I reply with conviction. “This is what I want. You’re what I want.”
She shakes her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re sure? This is a big change.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure,” I tell her. “You and Layla… you’re my future. If you’ll let me be part of yours.”
Abigail doesn’t answer right away, but the way she squeezes my hand, the way she pulls me into a fierce hug, says more than words ever could. When she finally pulls back, her eyes are shining .
“Of course we’ll have you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “We’d be mad not to.”
I kiss her then, long and slow, and the rest of the room fades away. When we finally pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you too,” I reply, my heart fuller than it’s been in years.
As Abigail leans into me, her hand resting against my chest, I hold her close, breathing in the moment. The music hums softly in the background, and Layla’s laughter mingles with Phoebe’s in the distance. For the first time in what feels like forever, my heart is at peace.
I glance down at Abigail, her smile lighting up her face, and I can’t help but think about the winding path that led me here—the pain, the guilt, the endless questioning of what I could have done differently. It’s strange how life works, how even the hardest moments can shape the ones that follow.
Maybe everything does happen for a reason.
The thought settles in my chest, not erasing the scars but making sense of them. Every decision, every step, every loss—it all brought me here. To this woman, this child, this place where I’ve found love and purpose again.
Abigail looks up at me, her eyes full of warmth, and squeezes my hand. I smile, feeling the weight I’ve carried for so long lift, just a little more.
Despite everything—the pain, the guilt, the mistakes—it all became part of the journey that brought me to her.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful.