Falling For You in the Wrong Century

EPILOGUE: ROOTS AND WINGS

Five years later

The morning sun streams through capiz windows, painting warm gold patterns across the nursery walls. Gracia rocks their two-year-old daughter, Lola—named after her grandmother—in the same narra chair where it all began, humming an old folk song Romano taught her.

“Breakfast is ready,” Romano calls from the veranda, his voice carrying over the sound of their seven-year-old son Kiko chasing chickens across the backyard.

Gracia sets Lola in her crib and steps outside, where a table is laid with fresh mangoes, grilled fish, and hot chocolate. Kiko runs up to her, holding a small woven palm basket he made with his father’s help.

“For you, Mama,” he says proudly. “Just like the ones you made in the old days!”

Romano laughs, wrapping an arm around Gracia’s waist. They’ve told the children simplified stories of how they met—about a dream that became real, a love that found its way through time. The ancestral house is now a place of joy: walls covered in the kids’ drawings, the workshop bustling with orders for Romano’s furniture, and every corner filled with laughter.

Last month, they opened the ground floor as a small museum and community space, showcasing family heirlooms and teaching local youth traditional crafts like weaving and carpentry. People come from all over the province to visit, and some even say they’ve felt a warm presence in the house—like the ancestors are watching over them, happy at last.

As the family sits together under the mango tree, Gracia looks at the portrait of her great-great grandmother’s sister one more time. The sadness is gone entirely now, replaced by what looks like a gentle smile.

“We built this life together,” Romano says, squeezing her hand.

“Always finding our way back,” Gracia replies—and she knows, with absolute certainty, that no matter what comes next, they’ll face it as one.