EPILOGUE : The First Sunrise
372 Words
The lake shimmered in the early morning light, quiet and undisturbed. Avelon stood barefoot on the dock, the wood still cool beneath her feet. The horizon was painted in hues of gold and rose, a soft promise of beginnings.
It had been six months since her mother’s passing, five since she’d left her apartment in town and moved into the cottage just beyond the woods. It wasn’t grand — the walls still creaked, and the roof whined when it rained — but it felt like hers. Like home.
Inside, Damian was making coffee. She could hear the soft clinks of mugs and the hiss of the kettle. He had moved in a few weeks ago, slowly, without words. A drawer here. A toothbrush there. Until one day, he was just part of the place — part of her rhythm.
Emma still visited from time to time. They had become friends, bonded not by tragedy, but by the shared tenderness of caring for someone in their final days. They didn’t talk about Kristen often, but when they did, it wasn’t with heaviness. It was with gratitude.
Avelon closed her eyes, letting the breeze brush over her skin. She could still remember the girl she had been — full of questions, full of ache, trying so hard to find something certain. But certainty had never really been the point. It was about choosing, again and again. Choosing to stay. To feel. To love.
She heard the screen door creak and then felt Damian wrap his arms around her from behind.
“It’s beautiful today,” he said into her hair.
She nodded. “It is.”
They stood like that for a while, watching the sun rise higher, the world slowly waking up.
“Do you ever wonder how we made it here?” she asked softly.
“All the time,” he replied. “But I think... we didn’t find the way back. We made a new one.”
Avelon smiled. It wasn’t the path she expected, but it was theirs.
And in that moment — wrapped in morning light, in love, in the steady breath of someone who stayed — she knew:
This was her beginning.
Her first.
Her last.
THE END
- Writer
