One year later. The city wakes under a sky streaked with gold and pink. Birds wheel between skyscrapers. Buses rumble by, carrying people to jobs, to lovers, to possibilities.
I walk down the sidewalk, my hair loose, my stride unhurried. Because I am no longer running.
A Book in the Window
A bookstore on the corner has a bright display in its window. My face stares back at me from the cover of a book.
MY BODY DOESN'T WANT YOUR BLESSING — Marina Cruz
A flutter of disbelief goes through me, even after all these months. I push open the door, the bell jingling overhead.
A Reader Approaches
A young woman near the register looks up as I enter. Her eyes go wide.
"Are you… Marina Cruz?"
I smile. "I am."
She grips her copy of my book like a lifeline.
"I left my fiancé. Because of you. I thought I was the only one who felt trapped. You saved me."
My throat tightens. I squeeze her hand. "You saved yourself. I just handed you a flashlight."
Visiting Camila
Later that afternoon, I drive to the cemetery. I kneel before Camila's grave, brushing away leaves.
"Your name cleared. A fund in your honor. Women rising because of your story. I hope you can see it, wherever you are."
I close my eyes and whisper: "Thank you for being my friend. I'll keep speaking your name."
A Quiet Moment
At dusk, I return home to my small apartment. My living room is cluttered with flowers, letters, and thank-you cards from women I've never met. Luz sits on my couch, flipping through a fashion magazine.
"We should totally go on vacation," she declares. "You're famous now. Let's get matching bikinis and disappear for a week."
I laugh. "We'd kill each other by day three."
"Probably. Still worth it."
An Invitation
My phone buzzes. TED Global has invited you to speak next year. I stare at the screen. Luz peeks over my shoulder.
"Say yes."
I take a deep breath. "Yes."
Marina's Reflection
That night, I stand at my window, the city lights sparkling like fireflies. I touch the scar on my side, now just a pale silver line. He's still in prison. But I'm free. And I'm never going back into silence. I open my laptop and start a new document.
At the top, I type: "Our Bodies, Our Voices."
Final Lines
I look out into the dark city and whisper to the stars: "My body doesn't want your blessing. It wants to live. And it will. Loudly."
Somewhere far below, a siren wails, a baby cries, a woman laughs. And I know this fight isn't over. But I also know I'm not alone anymore.