Romance didn’t have to be grand gestures and cringey declarations. It didn’t have to be a billionaire waving roses from a fire escape or promising a perfect life in exchange for sacrifice.
It washope.
And when I searched the romance tags in the forum, that’s what I found.
Amid the engagements and pregnancy tropes, I foundmyCaptain.
Happy.
Independent.
Loved—without being diminished.
Because the right person doesn’t clip your wings. They help you fly. They don’t hold you back. They push you forward.
My Captain hadn’t set out to find love. She hadn’t gone searching for her “better half.” But her second-in-command had chosenher. And that choice—quiet, steadfast, inevitable—had changed everything.
They made each other braver. Stronger. Freer.
Because what’s braver than choosing love, knowing it might break you, and saying yes anyway?
Her love story wasn’t about sacrifice. It was about partnership. Two people who were whole on their own?—
but together, they shined bright.
As bright as every star in the galaxy combined.
I printed the final chapter of theCaptain Carusoseries, bound the pages into a small folder, and slid it onto my fan fiction shelf.
The story was complete.
Chapter Forty-Two
Audacity should be John’s middle name.
The post office in Middleton can’t be trusted.
And I’mnotgoing to see him.
“Another fresh bouquet?” I asked, glancing at the dozen roses Mom had placed on the table. She wore a new pair of bright turquoise overalls, and her hair was wild. She looked like a messy Easter chicken but somehow ten years younger. There always seemed to be fresh flowers in the house these days. This week, it was red roses. “Do you have a secret admirer, Mom? Pray tell.”
Mom snorted but didn’t elaborate. I made my way downstairs. It was a new week, Monday morning—my favorite day, as it meant fresh books for the store. I routinely went around, wiping dust off the new shelves and straightening the Free Fan Fiction Library sign.
As I unlocked the front door, I glanced at the new seating area. Deep blue velvet sofas nestled by the window and I knewby mid-morning the perfect reading light would stream in. Yet sometimes, I found myself missing the patched old vintage one. Or maybe it was just the memories I had with it.
Mom never directly asked, though her questions always grazed the topic of John. Once, she “accidentally” left a magazine page on the kitchen table. The headline: “John Kater Splits from Bond Girl After Ending Sci-Fi Career”. With the subtitle: “Will He Ever Recover from His Father’s Death?”
I pretended not to see it. But that night, I laid awake, hovering over the unblock button. Part of me wanted to reach out, check if he was okay. But my heart had just started not to feel in permanent pain. And if he really wanted to contact me, he could have, right? For all I knew, he’d forgotten about our...thing. For all I knew, the magazine was lying, or he’d moved to Peru to become a monk. So why did I still feel...so much?
The door jingled.
The mailman’s nose was bright red from the cold, spring was still a few weeks away. He unloaded a stack of boxes and wished me a good day.
I froze in the doorway when I spotted the address of Haller & Mark on the delivery note. Since the competition had halted, I’d directed all their emails to junk. I knew Jeremy and May were still involved, now that the world had recovered from Lew’s death, but I never asked for details.
Could this be the winning novel? Would they send one to everyone who took part in the competition? An advanced copy? I bit my lip, considering just tossing it.
Mom came downstairs behind me. “What is it?” she asked tentatively, probably noticing the worried lines on my forehead.
