Epilogue
SARAH
My office in Camden had become exactly what I’d always imagined a therapy space should be—bright and cluttered in the best way, filled with toys and books and drawings taped to every available wall surface.
A six-year-old named Victoria had drawn me as a superhero last week, complete with a cape and a speech bubble that said “You can do it!” I’d hung it right next to my desk where I could see it every morning.
London had given me this. A license with my name on it, a job I loved, kids who reminded me why I’d chosen this field in the first place. I had Colin nearby, pub nights with coworkers who’d become friends, it was the kind of life I dreamed of.
At first I thought my units wouldn’t be credited here, but surprisingly, the timeline was the same. I’m now officially a licensed professional.
My phone buzzed while I was organizing materials for tomorrow’s sessions. Gianna’s name flashed across the screen and I smiled before I could help it.
“Tell me something good,” I said, already smiling.
“Lily got first place in her ballet competition last weekend.”
My chest went warm. “That’s amazing. How is she?”
“Thriving. You’d barely recognize her from when you left.” Gianna paused. “Mr. Valdez asks about you sometimes.”
I’d told Gianna a hundred times not to tell me about Hector. She ignored me every single time.
“How is he?” The question came out before I could stop it.
“Better. He’s in therapy—did I mention that? And he tested a new risotto recipe on the staff last week and I think I gained five pounds.”
“That’s good. I’m glad he’s doing well.”
“He misses you too, you know.”
“Gianna—”
“I know, I know. You don’t want to hear it. But someone has to tell you these things. I miss gossiping with you about him.”
I chuckled at that, we talked for another twenty minutes about nothing important—Colin’s thesis defense coming up, Lily’s birthday, whether I was actually going to make it back to New York to attend.
“You have to come,” Gianna insisted. “Lily will cry you if you miss it.”
“I know. I already booked my ticket. Two weeks from now.”
“Good. Because I might murder you too if you don’t. We miss you around here and this might be the only chance I get to see you.”
“To see you?” I asked.
“Did you forget? I’m leaving the estate soon. I want to further my law degree. I’m going back to NY law school babes,”
I could hear the excitement in her voice. I remembered she had mentioned it during the months I worked with them, about returning to university again. I didn’t know the full details about why she quit before, but I knew it was money related issues, so she had been saving while working for Hector.
Gianna and her mother did suffer rough times in the past after the death of her father. She never liked talking about the incident, so I never pressed. But it was enough that she was pursuing her dreams once again.
“That’s great news, Congratulations on your law degree, Gianna!” My voice was warm with pride, “As for Lily’s birthday, I’ll definitely be there.”
After we hung up, I sat in my office and let myself think about New York.
I missed them so desperately it felt like a physical ache—sharp, familiar, impossible to ignore.
But going back—even just for a birthday—meant facing everything I’d been running from. Meant seeing Hector and not knowing what to say. Meant opening wounds I’d spent months trying to close.
But I knew I wanted to go.
I stepped out of my office the next morning fumbling with my keys and mentally cataloging what I needed to pack for New York. The weather would be warmer there, I’d need different clothes, maybe I should buy Lily something nice and—
“Sarah!” I paused. I knew that voice.
But… it couldn’t possibly be. I was just hearing things. But then… it was the same voice. The same bright, unmistakable one that cut through the morning noise.
I turned around and the world stopped.
Hector and Lily. I was right.
They were standing on the sidewalk not fifteen feet away. Lily, who had screamed my name, was running now.
I caught her as she crashed into me, all momentum and emotion and tiny arms that refused to let go. Her arms wrapped around me so tight I could barely breathe but I didn’t care, couldn’t care about anything except the fact that Lily was here and solid and real.
“I missed you,” she said into my shoulder, the words muffled. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” My voice was shaking. “So much.”
She pulled back enough to look at me, her face bright with excitement. “I won first place in a competition. And I made so many new friends. And Daddy watches me dance every day.” She spoke every word in a rush, like she wanted us to catch up all at once.
“That’s wonderful.” I was crying now, tears streaming down my face while I tried to smile. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Will you come watch me dance sometime? Please? I’ve gotten so much better.”
“Yes. Absolutely yes.”
I looked up and saw Hector standing a few feet away, watching us. He looked different—his face had more color, his shoulders weren’t as rigid, his eyes weren’t carrying that haunted weight I’d gotten used to seeing.
He walked over slowly, his hand going to the back of his neck in that familiar gesture that meant he was nervous.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
Lily was still talking, chattering about her classes and her instructor and a new move she’d learned, but I couldn’t focus on the words. Just kept looking at Hector and trying to understand why he was here, what this meant, if I was allowed to hope.
“Lily, sweetheart,” Hector said gently. “Can you give us a minute?”
“But I have so much to tell Sarah—”
“I know. But I need to talk to her first. Just a few minutes, okay?”
Lily looked between us and then as if something clicked in her brain, she nodded seriously and went to sit on a nearby bench, swinging her legs and humming something that sounded like her ballet music.
Hector turned to face me fully and I stood up on shaky legs.
“I’m sorry,” he said—the words quiet, steady, and nothing like the man who’d shouted at me months ago. “For how I reacted, for the things I said. For making you carry guilt that was never yours to bear.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“I was an idiot,” he continued. “What your father did wasn’t your fault. You were just as much a victim of his choices as we were.” He took a breath. “I punished you for his sins and I’m sorry. You deserved better from me. I’m so, so sorry, Sarah…”
“Hector—”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said quickly. “I was trapped for two years and you helped me find a way out. Both of us. And I repaid you by—” His voice caught. “By destroying you.”
“You didn’t destroy me,” I said softly. “You were hurting. I was scared. We both made mistakes.” The words finally came. “You were hurt and angry and you had every right to be. I should have told you the truth the moment I found out instead of being a coward.”
“You weren’t a coward. You were scared.” He moved closer. “We both were. But I’m hoping—” He stopped. Started again. “I’m hoping we can move past them.”
My heart was beating so fast I thought it might break through my ribs. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I miss you. Lily misses you. We both want you back in our lives if you’ll have us.”
“I’m in London now. I have a job, a life—”
“I know. And I’m not asking you to give that up.” His eyes held mine. “I’m just asking if maybe, someday, you might visit us. Or we can come here to visit you. Wherever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
I looked at Lily who’d become so important to me, who was speaking freely and smiling and full of life. Then I looked at her father who was watching me with hope written all over his face.
“We will figure it out,” I heard myself say—and for the first time, I believed it.
The recital was in a small studio in Islington. Hector and Lily spent more time in London than New York now, so she decided to pursue her classes here.
Lily had insisted—begged, actually—that both of us come watch her perform. She’d signed up last minute for an open showcase and spent every spare moment practicing in our hotel room, her small feet moving through combinations while she hummed the music under her breath.
Now I sat beside Hector in a room full of parents and siblings, our shoulders almost touching in chairs that were too close together. The lights dimmed and music started and Lily appeared on stage in a pale blue leotard.
She danced a solo piece—lyrical and beautiful—her arms reaching upward like she was trying to touch the sky. Her movements were controlled but joyful, technical but full of emotion. She smiled the entire time.
Hector’s hand found mine in the darkness. His fingers laced through mine and neither of us pulled away.
When Lily finished, the audience applauded and she curtsied and her face was glowing. After, she bounded over to us and immediately started introducing us to the other dancers.
“This is Sarah,” she told a group of girls, pride radiating off her. “She’s my favorite person in the whole world.”
My heart expanded in my chest.
“And this is my daddy,” Lily continued, beaming at Hector. “He’s the best daddy and he cooks really good food.”
Hector smiled at her, the kind that reached his eyes and made him look years younger.
The girls all scattered eventually, pulled away by parents ready to leave. Lily went to collect her things and Hector and I stood together in the emptying studio.
“Are you happy here?” he asked quietly. “In London?”
I thought about my office with its view of the Thames, my flat with the creaky floorboards I'd grown to love, the life I'd stitched together from nothing but stubbornness and grief.
"I am," I said. "But I miss New York sometimes.
The noise of it. The way it never lets you feel alone, even when you are. " I paused. "I miss certain people."
The wind picked up, carrying the salt-sharp smell of the harbor. A strand of hair whipped across my face, and before I could brush it away, his fingers were there, tucking it gently behind my ear.
"Would you ever come back permanently?"
The question hung between us, weighted with everything we hadn't said. I watched a ferry cut across the gray water, its wake spreading white against the dark.
"Maybe," I said. "If I had a reason to."
His hand found mine again, and this time his grip tightened—not desperate, but certain. Like he was anchoring himself to me, or me to him.
"I'm hoping to give you one." His voice was rough at the edges. "But Sarah—if you decide otherwise, if London is where you need to be, I'd come there. I'd stay."
I turned to face him fully then, searching his expression for the catch, the qualification. There wasn't one. "You'd do that? Leave everything—your work, your whole life—for me?"
"I'd do anything for you."
He said it simply, the way you'd state an obvious fact. The sky is blue. Water is wet. I'd do anything for you.
He stepped closer, closing the small distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from him despite the chill in the air.
His hand rose to my face, his palm cradling my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with unbearable tenderness.
I looked up at him and found his eyes already waiting for mine—those eyes I'd spent months trying not to think about, failing every single time.
"W-why?" The word came out broken, barely a whisper. I hated how vulnerable I sounded, but I needed to understand. After everything, after all the ways I'd been left and abandoned and disappointed, I needed to hear him say it.
"Because I love you, Sarah."
No hesitation. No qualifiers. Just four words that rearranged the entire architecture of my world.
And then he leaned down and kissed me.
His lips were warm and soft, and he kissed me like I was something precious, something worth crossing oceans for. My hands found the front of his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric, pulling him closer.
When we finally broke apart, I was trembling, and I realized with some surprise that I was crying. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs, his forehead resting against mine.
"I love you too," I breathed. "I think I have for a long time. I was just too scared to—"
He kissed me again, softer this time, and I felt like I was floating, untethered from gravity, from fear, from every defense I'd ever built.
How incredible it was, that after everything I'd been through, I'd managed to arrive here. After the loss that had shattered me. After the years of putting myself back together, piece by jagged piece.
We pulled apart again, and just in time to hear little steps come closer to us.
Lily came running back, her bag bouncing against her hip. “Can we get ice cream? Please? To celebrate?”
“Absolutely,” Hector said, not taking his eyes off me. “Whatever you want.”
We walked out into the London afternoon—Lily between us, chattering about her performance and asking if we’d seen her best turn. Hector’s hand was still holding mine and I didn’t let go.
For the first time in months, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Not because the past was erased or the pain forgotten — but because we’d chosen to move forward anyway.
Together.