Epilogue
It’s a thirty-second clip, and Gia’s watched it a dozen times since she came back from her shower and found the alert blinking on her comm. By now, she’s not even bothering to hold back the tears.
The clip starts shaky: blurs of blue and tan furniture and a blinding flash of sun through window before the lighting levels auto-adjust and the camera focuses on Oriol. He’s standing in the living room of Manu’s apartment, filming himself at a bad angle, his pale face backlit against the window.
He can’t keep away the grin as he greets her.
“Hey, G, hope you’re doing well. I figured you’d want to see this.” His grin widens, eyes sparking gold as he pans away in another blur of furniture and sunlight.
Manu is standing — standing — his legs strapped into braces, one of Oriol’s crutch
