Chapter 22
Vivian
Ryan never got out.
He served his time quietly, reading books and avoiding trouble, shrinking into a shadow of who he once was. Sometimes I wondered if he ever really wanted me, or if he just missed the idea of us.
He wrote once, a short letter asking forgiveness. I never replied.
Sometimes, I almost felt sorry for him.
But not enough to let the past back in.
Lisa’s life got better. She became a nurse, working with kids, volunteering after hours. She sent pictures of her son every year, proud and smiling, hair wild and eyes clear.
She asked if we could visit someday, if the boys could meet.
I said yes. We even did, once—picnic blankets, soccer balls, the children running together like brothers.
It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough.
Alejandro and I grew older, watching our kids become their own people.
We taught them to love fiercely, to forgive even when it hurt.
We told them stories about the lives we had before. About the power of second chances, about what it means to start over, about how the best families are the ones you build for yourself.
Holy. Freaking. Heck.
If there’s a secret to happiness, maybe it’s that simple.
Choose your people.
Choose them again.
And never, ever let them go.