Chapter 20 – Ever After
Years passed—but the love remained.
Isla grew quickly, her curiosity mirroring Elena's creativity and her quiet determination echoing Marcus's calm strength. By the time she turned five, she had a corner of the loft reserved for her own art—a mini easel, watercolor paints, and a jar full of crayons she called "my thinking sticks."
Elena's gallery career flourished. She opened a second space, mentored young artists, and even began working on a book. Marcus, still in architecture, now balanced commercial projects with community spaces, designing places that *felt* like home.
Despite their busy lives, they always came back to one thing: family.
They spent Sunday mornings making pancakes from scratch—messy, imperfect, delicious. Summers were for road trips, sketchbooks in tow, capturing moments instead of chasing destinations. Winters were for movie nights under heavy blankets, with Isla curled between them, falling asleep before the credits rolled.
On Marcus's 40th birthday, Elena gave him a framed sketch she'd drawn herself—a recreation of their first accidental meeting at the gallery.
"I figured it was time I drew *you*," she said, smiling.
He couldn't speak. He only held her hand.
Later that year, Isla stood on a school stage for her first-ever poetry recital. When she spotted her parents in the crowd—Elena with her phone shaking from excitement, Marcus mouthing "You got this"—she beamed.
"My poem," Isla began, "is called *Home.*"
She read about colors, quiet hugs, pancakes, rooftops, and laughter. About love that didn't shout, but stayed.
When she finished, the room erupted. Marcus clapped the hardest. Elena cried the softest.
That night, back at the loft, Isla asked, "Will we always be like this?"
Marcus looked at Elena.
And Elena smiled. "Yes. Because love—*real* love—doesn't end. It grows. It stretches. And even when it changes, it stays."
In the quiet that followed, the city lights blinked in rhythm with their hearts. Not perfect. Not easy. But true.
And as they curled together in the same loft where it all began, Marcus whispered:
"Ever after isn't a place."
"It's this."
*The End.*