EPILOGUE
Jessica
One year after Sophia Kane entered the world seven weeks early and furious about it, she attempted to eat a copy of her mother’s newest book. Jessica considered this editorial feedback.
“Stop chewing my royalties.”
Sophia looked up from Alex’s lap and grinned. Two tiny teeth showed. Alex removed the board book from her hands.
“Our daughter is supporting the arts.”
“She is destroying inventory.”
“Immersive criticism.”
Jessica stood behind a table inside Morgan & Finch Books, signing the final copies remaining after the launch.
The bookstore had been packed an hour earlier.
Children sat on rugs during Jessica’s reading.
Parents bought books. Zoe cried during Jessica’s thank-you speech and denied it immediately afterward.
Natalie had taken approximately four hundred photographs, most of which Jessica suspected contained a finger in one corner.
Evelyn had arrived with a birthday-sized bouquet despite this not being Jessica’s birthday.
Alex sat in the second row during Jessica’s reading with Sophia on his lap and looked so ridiculously proud that Jessica almost lost her place twice. It was perfect.
Zoe approached with a stack of three books. “Last ones.”
“Really?”
“You sold out.”
Jessica blinked.“We had seventy-five copies.”
“One hundred, actually.”
“When did that happen?”
“When you were busy pretending not to stare at your husband.”
Jessica glared.“I was reading.”
“You were reading toward one specific chair.”
“Go work.”
“I am working.”
Zoe placed the books in front of her.
Jessica signed them.
The cover featured a small bird perched at the edge of a wooden shelter during a rainstorm.
The title had eventually become Room Beneath My Wings.
The final spread showed the bird flying again.
The shelter remained behind. Open. Waiting.
Not because she needed to live inside it forever.
Because knowing it was there made flying easier.
Subtle? Perhaps not.Jessica had stopped apologizing for sentiment. She wrote children’s books. The adults could cope. When the last customer left, Alex approached carrying Sophia.
Jessica looked at him. “What did you think?”
“About?”
“My book launch.”
“Decent.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Decent?”
“The illustrations were competent.”
“Alex.”
“The perspective in the final forest scene is questionable.”
She reached for Sophia. “Give me my child before I divorce you.”
Alex handed over the baby. “Again?”
Jessica laughed. “Too soon.”
His expression changed for a fraction of a second. Not pain. Memory. They could joke about some things now. Not everything. Never everything.That was fine. Jessica shifted Sophia to her hip. Alex kissed her. Their marriage no longer felt fragile every day. Some days it barely felt unusual.
That didn't mean they had returned to the old division of their lives. Alex knew Sophia’s pediatric schedule without asking Jessica.
He packed the daycare bag when it was his turn, noticed when prescriptions needed refilling, and changed plans before Jessica had to become the family’s project manager.
None of it was romantic. That was exactly why it mattered.
Bills. Work. Sophia refusing vegetables.
Alex forgetting to replace the toilet-paper roll despite an architectural education that should have prepared him for basic cylindrical systems. Counseling had become monthly instead of weekly.
Alex still saw Dr. Cole. Jessica had eventually begun seeing someone herself.
Not because Alex required it but because nearly dying, giving birth prematurely, spending seven weeks in a NICU, and separating from your husband turned out to be quite a lot for one nervous system.
Some nights Jessica still woke after dreaming about the operating room.
Alex no longer just said, You’re safe.
He turned on the lamp. Asked what she remembered. Listened. Sometimes she wanted his arms wrapped arond her. Sometimes she needed space. He had learned both could mean love.
By six that evening, snow covered Manhattan. Thick flakes buried cars and softened sidewalks. Traffic slowed. Schools announced closures for the next morning.
Jessica stood at the apartment window with Sophia against the glass.
“You see that?”
Sophia slapped the window.
“Excellent analysis.”
Behind them, Alex dragged dining chairs into the living room.
Jessica turned.
“What are you doing?”
“Architecture.”
“With blankets?”
“Materials are materials.”
“You have lost professional credibility.”
Alex draped a duvet over the chairs. Sophia squealed. Jessica stared.
“No.” Jessica laughed.
“You told me you never had a blanket fort until you married me.”
“I was twenty-five.”
“And it changed your life.”
“It damaged your back.”
“It was structurally ambitious.”
“It collapsed while we were eating cereal.”
“Unforeseen load conditions.”
Jessica laughed, again.
Alex pointed toward Sophia. “Our daughter deserves the experience.”
“Your daughter will pull it down in eight seconds.”
“She respects design.”
Sophia immediately grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked. The entire structure shifted.
Jessica lifted an eyebrow. “Your client has notes.”
He sighed. “Difficult family.”
They rebuilt it lower. Alex crawled underneath first. Jessica handed Sophia to him, then followed. The three of them sat beneath a blanket in the middle of the apartment while snow covered the city outside.
Jessica looked around.
“This is terrible.”
Alex stretched out.
“It is charming.”
“It’s claustrophobic.”
“You loved the first one.”
“I loved you.”
Alex looked at her.
“Past tense?”
She smiled. “Don’t fish.”
“Cruel.”
Sophia crawled across Alex’s stomach. He caught her before she reached Jessica’s coffee. “Your mother refuses to validate me.”
Sophia babbled.
“Exactly.”
Jessica leaned against the sofa. Her phone sat beside her.
The appointment reminder had arrived that afternoon.
Annual follow-up. Routine. Nothing alarming.
Her doctors were pleased with her health.
Her blood pressure had been normal for months.
There was no reason to be afraid but Jessica was afraid.
She had learned not to argue with her fear.
Alex caught her looking at the phone.
“What?”
She shook her head. Old habit. He didn't push. That made it easier to change her mind.“My appointment is Thursday.”
Alex nodded. “I remember.”
“Of course you do.”
“Calendar.”
“Still counts.”
He waited. Jessica watched Sophia attempt to eat the corner of a throw pillow.“I’m nervous.”
Alex didn't say the appointment was routine, didn't tell her the previous results had been good, didn't say there was no reason to worry. He shifted Sophia onto his lap.
“What are you afraid they’ll tell you?”
The question loosened something in Jessica’s chest. She looked down at her hands. “That my pressure is up again.”
Alex listened.
“That there’s something they missed.”
He nodded.
“That this whole year of feeling normal is temporary.”
Her voice became quieter. “That my body is waiting to betray me again.”
Alex reached for her hand.
Jessica gave it to him. “I know that sounds ridiculous.”
“No. it doesn’t.”
“It does a little.”
“I’ve heard you say much more ridiculous things.”
She laughed. “Thank you.”
“You married an architect. Brutal honesty is part of the service.”
Jessica squeezed his fingers.
Alex’s expression softened.“Do you want me to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
She looked at him. “What about work?”
“I have work.”
“Thursday morning?”
“Yes.”
“Anything important?”
Alex considered. “Depends how much you value commercial-residential zoning.”
“Not even slightly.”
“Then no.”
Jessica smiled. The smile faded. “I hate that I’m still scared.”
Alex looked at their joined hands.“You probably will be sometimes.”
“That’s depressing.”
“I learned motivational speaking from you.”
She leaned closer.“I thought eventually this part would go away.”
“Maybe it gets smaller.”
“Maybe.”
Sophia made a frustrated sound between them. Alex adjusted her. Jessica watched him. One year ago she believed forgiveness meant either forgetting the hospital or accepting that the memory would always own part of their marriage. She was wrong.
The memory remained. So did everything that came after.
Alex leaving the presentation without hesitation.
Therapy. Counseling. The letter. The mural.
The night she returned home. The first time she woke from a nightmare and told him she didn't want to be touched, and he moved to the other side of the bed without making the distance about himself.
The next morning, when she reached for him first. Trust hadn't returned like a light switching on. It had accumulated. Tiny decisions. Ordinary days.
Jessica looked toward the windows. Snow continued falling. Sophia was beginning to fall asleep against Alex’s chest. He stroked one hand down their daughter’s back.
Jessica rested her head against his shoulder.“I’m still scared about Thursday.”
Alex turned his hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “Then I’ll be scared with you.”
He stayed.
THE END