Epilogue

Flashlights flared everywhere, flickering like fireflies in the dark. Voices echoed through the air like rainfall, blending with the raw clash of guitar, piano, and drums.

A wash of blue light bathed the stage. In the center stood the young singer in her usual style—baggy jeans, a round-neck shirt, and a black string pendant with a glowing stone resting against her chest. White sneakers completed the look. Her brown hair tumbled across her face as she sang into the mic, her slender fingers strumming the guitar, the wedding ring on her middle finger catching the light.

Fans screamed her name, singing along, shouting with feverish joy.

“Oh, Dad!” A five-year-old boy tugged at the man’s sleeve, bouncing on his toes. His small hands stretched upward, begging to be lifted as his eyes scanned the sea of people pressing around them. He looked uneasy.

“Alright, lad,” Chris chuckled, hoisting the boy onto his shoulders.

“There—look! That’s Mom!” the boy cried, his eyes glowing as he pointed to the stage. His face flushed with excitement. “That’s Mom!” he said again, tapping the top of Chris’s head.

“Yeah!” Chris shouted back, grinning.

A man beside them scoffed, his lip curling as if they’d lost their minds.

“You’re mistaken, boy,” the man said, wagging a finger at the child. “That’s Isa—the star singer.”

The boy blinked, looked back at the stage, then frowned at the man. His lips pushed out in a pout, and he shook his head.

“That’s Mom, right?” he asked, tilting his head toward his father for reassurance.

Chris winked—their silent code. The boy broke into a wide smile and faced the stage again.

Chris’s own smile lingered, pride swelling in his chest as he watched his wife perform. She looked more radiant than ever—her voice soaring, her presence commanding. His heart lifted.

Watching Isa now, Chris sometimes wondered what he might have lost if he hadn’t survived—their son, her laughter, Nora’s triumph, even the chance to see his uncle leave the world content.

Six years ago, he and Isa had vowed to laugh and cry together—and they had kept that promise. Through every obstacle, every argument, every hardship, they had stood side by side. Now, he had someone to hold when nights grew cold, someone to lean on when weakness struck.

Then Chris faced the man next to him, his shoulders squared.

“Yeah, man,” he said firmly. “That’s my wife—Isa.”

Okay, finally—the END! 🎉

Thank you so much for following me and my characters on this journey, for your patience, and for giving me encouragement along the way. 💖

I’m also grateful for every reaction and comment, and a special thanks to the silent readers too—your time spent on this story means so much to me.

If you truly enjoyed the story—if you loved Chris, Isa, and maybe even Alex—please, please consider leaving a review. ✍️

It would make me smile to hear how you felt about the story and what I could improve as a writer.

Thank you once again! 🙏