I wake to Devon's arm draped across my waist.
For a moment, I don't move. I let myself enjoy this moment—his breath against my shoulder, the feeling of his body curved around mine. We slept tangled together last night, the way we used to before New York. Before everything went horribly wrong.
My stomach rolls, and I press my hand against it instinctively.
I've felt off for days. Dizzy when I stand too fast, and emotional in ways that don't match the circumstances—crying at a commercial yesterday, then laughing at nothing an hour later.
I won't let myself think about what it might mean.
Hope is a dangerous thing. I've learned that.
Devon stirs beside me, mumbling something against my hair. I turn in his arms, facing him, studying him. The worry lines are still there—they probably always will be—but he looks peaceful.
"Morning, baby,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.
"Morning."
His hand finds my hip, pulling me closer. "How do you feel?"
"Fine."
It's notentirely a lie. I'm not sick, not really. I'm... different. Like my body is trying to tell me something, and I'm too afraid to listen.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it reluctantly.
Officer Gray's name flashes on the screen.
"It's the police," I say, and Devon's eyes open immediately.
I answer, pressing the phone to my ear while Devon props himself up on one elbow, watching me.
The conversation is short and professional. Gray tells me the district attorney has filed formal charges against Mila—false reporting, harassment, stalking. The international incidents from Bali and India have been added to establish a pattern of predatory behavior. The prosecution has rejected any mental health defense angle.
She isn’t delusional and unwell. This is just… her? I stiffen, invisible fingers crawling over my spine.
"Her actions were deliberate and calculated," Gray explains. "The evidence is overwhelming. She targeted multiple victims across multiple countries using the same tactics."
When I hang up, Devon is still watching me.
"It's over," I tell him. "Really over. They've charged her with everything."
I wait for the satisfaction to hit. The feeling thatwe won.
But what I feel isn’t that—it’s release.
Mila spent years trying to make me believe I was worthless. That I was too big, too plain, toonothingfor someone like Devon. She whispered shit into my ear until I couldn't look in a mirror without hearing her voice.
And then she tried to destroy my marriage. She tried to take the one person who had always chosen me, always loved me exactly as I am.
She failed.
“Well…that feels…” Devon’s voice trails off.
"Freeing.” The word surprises me, but it's true. "I feel free."
He pulls me into his arms, pressing his lips to my forehead, and I let myself sink into him.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
