Chapter 15 - The Final Draft
Three years after the day I walked out of Room 518 carrying my ex-husband’s silver laptop, the construction on our cliffside home was finally complete.
It was a masterpiece of modern architecture—sleek, transparent, resilient steel and glass anchored deep into the living rock of the riverbank. There were no dark corners, no closed-off corridors, and no secrets buried beneath the floorboards.
On a warm autumn evening, Julian and I stood on the wide cantilevered balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of gold, amber, and deep violet.
I wore a simple silk dress, and at my throat rested the clean, sharp silver pendant I had bought for myself on the day my studio opened.
My phone buzzed on the patio table—a routine notification from my assistant about a morning meeting for the city’s new sustainable housing initiative. I ignored it, letting the screen fade to black against the dark wood.
Julian wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin gently on my shoulder as we watched the river flow endlessly toward the horizon.
"What are you thinking about?" he whispered against my ear.
May you like
I smiled, looking out at the vast, unblemished expanse of light stretching out before us, feeling the solid, unshakeable ground beneath our feet.
"Just admiring the foundation," I said softly. "It’s built to last."
