Chapter 36 #2
‘Healing is not about becoming who you used to be. It’s about creating space for who you were always meant to be, underneath the survival. It’s about choosing to be seen and choosing to let people in. This is not the tidy ending or the polished version. This is just me, finally.’
I look up, blinking fast. The silence in the room is reverent, heavy in the most sacred way. I clear my throat. ‘So yeah. That’s where I’m at, it's not perfect. Just me trying to live out loud for once.’
No one moves for a second, the air feels suspended.
I hear someone sniffle. Rey wipes her cheek, and Marley presses a hand over her heart.
Lucas isn't just watching, he is feeling. His eyes were locked on mine like he hadn’t taken a full breath until now.
I exhale something full and weightless. I have been seen, and I am not afraid anymore.
Stepping down from the platform, my heart thuds like it is still trying to catch up with everything I’d just said aloud.
Then there is applause. It is loud and it feels wholehearted and freeing.
Someone calls out, ‘That is beautiful!’ Another voice asks, ‘When’s Letting Go coming out?’ and ‘Can I get a copy of The Year Before You with your actual name on it?’ followed by: ‘Will you sign mine again?’
I blink, feeling dazed and a little overwhelmed, but I smile. ‘Soon.’ I nod. ‘I hope so.’
Then I am surrounded. Marley reaches for me first, arms wrapping tight around my shoulders. ‘You did it,’ she whispers, her voice thick, ‘Lilah, you really did it.’
Before I can even catch my breath, Rey appears with a bouquet of wildflowers, all mismatched and chaotic, and beautiful. Just like us. Her eyes were glossy as she jabs a finger towards me. ‘You tore me up there, you jerk.’
I laugh, choking on it a little, and then Tess steps in. She doesn’t say anything right away, she just pulls me close, pressing her forehead to mine. Her voice is low and steady. ‘You don’t owe the world anything else, this is enough.’
The air buzzes around us. Charged with something I didn’t have a word for.
Truth, maybe or relief. Whatever it is, it hums beneath my skin.
But even through all of it, through the hugs, the noise, the blurred edges of joy, my eyes kept drifting.
Drawn across the room like I am tethered to Lucas.
He is walking towards me. Slow and steady.
The crowd parts like it knew better than to interrupt.
He didn’t have anything in his hands, just himself.
He is solid and only looks at me. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
The noise fades, the laughter melts away. My heartbeat steadies, syncing with the quiet, deliberate rhythm of his footsteps.
He doesn’t speak at first; he just looks at me. Taking my hand, he leads me away from the chaos and into the quiet.
‘I meant every word,’ I say, my voice more breath than sound.
'So did I.’
I reach into my tote and pull out the same copy of The Year Before You I held onstage. ‘I think I’m still writing this story,’ I say, eyes not leaving his. ‘But I know how I want it to begin.’
He takes the book with both hands, holding it as if it meant something, and as if I meant something. ‘I don’t have the right words,’ he admits, his voice a little unsteady. ‘I never really do, but I’m here, and if you’ll let me, I’d really like to stay.’
The smile that blooms on my lips is real and honest. ‘That’s the only thing I’ve ever needed.’
He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, and just like that, the world became ours.
No grand gestures or tidy resolution, just the beginning of something honest. I didn’t know what tomorrow would look like, and I didn’t need to, because tonight this moment, is mine.
When Lucas reaches for my hand, I let him.
A grin from ear-to-ear, spreads across his face. ‘Should we get out of here?’
‘Yeah, lets go.’
‘Hey Lils,’ Tess stands there holding an envelope. ‘I was ducking out the back when I saw this sitting on he counter. I think it’s from Justin.’
My heart starts racing as I look around the room. Is he still here?
‘Did you see him?’
‘Nope, he must have ducked in and out,’ she says, calm as ever.
Shit. ‘Okay.’
‘Want me to hold onto it for a bit? Or bin it?’
I shake my head and take the envelope from her. Turning it over I notice the familiar paper, and my hand writing. How did he get this?
‘This is…’ I carefully unfold the note. ‘I wrote this the other day. I must have left it up by the wishing tree.’ Then I start to read.
Lilah,
I don’t know where to begin, I don’t know if you sent this to me, but your letter showed up the other day.
After I saw you at the market actually. At first when I read it, I almost ripped it up.
Then I realised, I have been so angry for such a long time.
It is about time I take some accountability and get some help.
I know there is no excuse for how I treated you, I just didn’t realise what I was doing until I read this…your words made me realise I had been a loser and I am sorry. Sorry for ever making you feel small and that your voice didn’t matter.
It does Lilah. It matters. You matter.
I hope that you do get the fairytale you are chasing.
Justin.
I wipe a tear from my cheek, not from any sadness or remorse, just validation that I didn’t imagine it all. I exhale and smile. ‘He said sorry.’
‘About time,’ Tess takes my hand. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’
I feel Lucas put his arm around me and pull me in tight pressing a kiss to my head. ‘Lets actually go this time,’ he whispers.
‘Have fun you two.’
As we step out of the bookstore, the night air wraps around me, it is surprisingly cool for October, like even the sky is holding its breath.
‘Are you sure you are okay with that.’ He gestures to the letter.
‘Yeah, he won't bother me again.’ I offer it to him, ‘Did you want to read it? I don’t want any secrets between us.’
He steps forward wrapping me in a hug, his signature cologne hitting me, reminding me of our first hug at the book fair and how it made my brain scramble. I chuckle and he pulls back with a questioning look on his face. He presses a soft kiss to my lips.
That's when I notice the bench. The one where we sat and had our first coffee.
I didn't pay attention to it when I arrived today.
It sits just off to the side of the storefront, right where it always had.
Only now it is different, the worn wood I used to run my hands across has been gently sanded back, the deep scratches softened; the varnish catching the light with a subtle, golden sheen.
It smelt slightly sweet, nutty, and earthy.
The vines at its base were still wild, still curling up like they belonged there.
Like nothing needed to be tamed to be loved.
And on the seat, in a perfect little loaf, is Monty.
She’s curled up as if she’s been waiting for us. For him. For this. Her tail flicks when she notices us, and then she stands, stretches luxuriously, and hops down—trotting straight towards me with a soft, chirpy meow.
My heart flips. ‘Monty,’ I breathe, crouching to scratch under her chin. She purrs immediately, leaning her whole head into my palm.
‘She’s been sitting out here all evening,’ Lucas murmurs. ‘She always chooses that spot. I think she likes the bench lore more than we do.’
‘You fixed it,’ I whisper.
Lucas doesn’t say anything right away. He steps beside me, eyes flicking from the bench to Monty to me. ‘I wanted it to be ready,’ he whispers, ‘in case you were.’
I huff a wet laugh as Monty brushes against my leg, then pads back to the bench and curls herself at the far edge—leaving a space beside her, like an invitation.
That’s when I see it.
Just beneath the seat, scrawled in small, slanted chalk letters on the pavement, is a message that nearly knocks the air from my lungs.
“Still here, still yours, page by page.”
God.
I crouch down, brushing my fingers lightly over the seat, like the grain could hold all the words I haven’t said yet. My throat tightens. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.’
He steps closer, voice barely above a breath. ‘It reminded me of you. A little worn, a little wild.’
I look up at him, eyes stinging. Monty bumps her head against me, as if nudging me towards him.
There were a million things I could’ve said, but none of them mattered more than the warmth blooming in my chest. I stand and reach for his hand again.
‘Take me home.’