Page 126 of The Silence Between
“They were in on it?” I asked, laughing through my tears.
“All of them,” Ethan confirmed. “Even Eleanor. She's holding a small engagement party at the bookstore next weekend. Hope that's okay.”
The thought of our entire extended family, biological and chosen, coming together to celebrate this next chapter filled me with a joy so complete it was almost painful.
“It's perfect,” I said, looking from Ethan to our family on the porch and back again. “All of it.”
Later, surrounded by siblings and congratulations and impromptu toasts, I found myself looking at the ring on my finger, at the symbol that connected so deeply to my own journey. The semicolon that had started as a reminder not to end my story had evolved into something even more powerful: a promise that the story would continue to unfold in ways I couldn't yet imagine, with this family we'd built together at its heart.
In the morning, I would call my cousin in Arizona and share the news. She would pass it along to my mother, who would likely send a card with her well-wishes. We had found our balance, a way to acknowledge our connection without reopening old wounds. Some stories find their proper endings so that new ones can begin.
An infinity of possibilities stretching out before us, waiting to be written. Together.
