I tell him about my own changes—how I finally found a place that feels like mine—a home in the country. Close enough to the city, and close enough to Jacob for the kids. But most importantly, close enough to myself. And somewhere between the laughter, the stories, and everything we don’t say, I realize something.
Some endings aren’t endings at all.
Some are a beginning—we just don’t see it yet.
Dylan steps closer as I make him a plate of goodies to take home. “Remember I made you a promise last year that I’d send you to a rage room on your birthday to drink wine and smash pictures of that damn pole.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Of course I do. A little surprised you do too.”
“I remember everything about you, Jenna.” His gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. “Maybe this year… we smash things together.”
My breath catches, then steadies. He’s here. He came back.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’d like that.”
For the rest of my life, I think to myself. But the way he’s looking at me, he already knows that.
Just as we embrace and say our goodbyes, Izzy returns, stopping short when she spots Dylan. “You came!” Her grin is instant. “Guess you’re her new best friend while I’m off to Italy for my therapist degree. Good luck filling my stilettos.”
We all laugh.
“Just promise me a discount when my life turns into a mess again,” I joke, although it probably will.
“Only if you’re open to sex therapy,” she winks. “Because let’s face it, that’s my specialty.”
I roll my eyes, giggling. “Why am I not surprised?”
She pulls me in for another hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“Same,” I say, squeezing her back.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.” She
pauses. “With more than just a diploma.”
Dylan wraps his arms around me again, resting his chin on my shoulder for a moment. “I’ll see you soon.”
As I’m left alone in silence, I sit in my new office, a space that feels like a new beginning. I take out my journal, one last time, and let the words flow out.
To my father: Your absence shaped me, but it no longer defines me. I used to wonder why I wasn’t enough, why loving me was something you could walk away from. Maybe I’ll never have those answers. Maybe I don’t need them. But I’m ready to let you go—not for you, but for me.
To my younger self, and the woman I’m becoming: For years, I lost faith. In God. In love. In myself. I believed I was jinxed, cursed by the universe, chained to a past I couldn’t outrun. But the universe wasn’t punishing me. It was shaping me. Teaching me to let go—of fear, of guilt, of waiting for someone else to give me the love I needed to find in myself. And to accept that life doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes it’s unfair, messy, brutally unforgiving.
But I’ll survive. I always do. And I thought love would fix me. That choosing between Jacob’s safety and Dylan’s fire would make me feel whole. But love was never the answer. Freedom was. Because it was never about them. It was always about me.
Sure, I made mistakes along the way—big, reckless ones. The kind that leave scars. But scars don’t mean broken. They mean I fought. And survived. And they sure as hell don’t make me unworthy of happiness. They make me human.
So now? I choose myself. I choose peace. I choose joy. And maybe the third time’s really the charm with Dylan. But this time, I’m not waiting to be saved. I’m walking into love already whole.
With love,
Jenna
Closing my journal feels like I’m shutting the door on a version of me that no longer exists. And for the first time, the future doesn’t scare me. It calls to me like a wide-open, endless sky full of possibility.
Because I know now that I was never jinxed. Never broken. Never beyond saving.
I was only ever waiting to set myself free.
