Her gaze drifted to Evan.
“I stood you up,” she murmured.
Evan smiled gently.
“I’ve had worse nights. This one gave me something unexpected.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For staying.”
“It wasn’t just for you,” Evan replied. “It was for them. And for him.”
A Different Kind of Beginning
Months passed.
Melissa healed. The girls found stability. Leo stopped asking, “Are they leaving?” and started asking, “When are they coming over?”
One evening, Evan took Melissa back to Harbor Olive.
She arrived on time.
They sat at the same table.
“I made it,” she said softly.
Evan nodded.
“You’re here.”
Sometimes life doesn’t give back what it took.
Sometimes it gives something new.
Something that doesn’t erase the past.
But makes room for light.
That night, the children slept tangled together on the couch.
Melissa watched them and whispered, “They found each other.”
Evan squeezed her hand.
“Maybe they always knew how.”
And in that imperfect, real home, fear slowly lost its place.
Because love didn’t arrive quietly.
It came running.
With scraped knees.
And tears.
But it came.
And it stayed.