Page 218 of Joker

Joker watches me go. Of course he does. His eyes track me the way they always do now, steady, aware, giving me spacewithout ever really letting me feel alone in it. When I glance back, he gives me a small nod, like he already knows what I’m about to do.

Maybe he does.

I step out past the edge of the light, where the sound of the fire softens and the night wraps around me in something cooler, calmer. My fingers hover over the screen for a second longer than they need to before I finally hit the number.

It rings once.

Twice.

Then, “Raven.”

My chest tightens at the sound of my father’s voice. Not because I’m afraid. Not because I’m bracing. Because I’m not.

“I’m okay,” I say before anything else, my voice steadier than I expect it to be. “We’re okay.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Not long. Just enough for him to take that in.

“Is it done?” he asks.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning back against the side of the building, feeling the solid wood at my back and the absence of fear in my chest.

“It’s done,” I tell him.

No shaking. No second guessing. No part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Just truth.

Another pause, heavier this time, and I can hear the shift in him even through the line. The release. The weight easing in a way I don’t think either of us fully believed would ever happen. “You’re safe?” he asks quietly.

I open my eyes and look back toward the yard.

At Lexi asleep in Emma’s lap. At the women gathered close, talking low. At the brothers around the fire. At Joker watching me, even from a distance, like he always will.

“I’m home,” I say.

The words hit different than “safe.” Stronger. Truer.

My dad exhales slowly. “Good,” he says. “That’s… good, baby.”

There’s a lot more that could be said. A lifetime of things, really. But we’ve never been the kind of people who need to fill silence just to prove something matters.

“I’ll bring her to visit,” I add after a second. “When things settle more. Lexi misses you.”

“I’ll be here,” he says.

I believe that too.

When I hang up, I don’t feel like something ended. I feel like something finally closed. Not slammed shut. Not buried.

Just…finished.

When I step back into the light, Joker’s already moving toward me. He doesn’t ask what was said. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t need details to understand the shape of it.

He just reaches for me. And when I go into his arms, it’s not because I need to be held together anymore.

It’s because I get to be.

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