Page 121 of Insidious

My heart feels like it is too full.

Isaac lets out a shaky breath.

“I feel so lucky.”

His voice is like gravel. I know exactly what he means. I know he is not just thinking about today.

He is thinking about hospital rooms and therapy appointments. About finding me bleeding on the bathroom floor. About the weeks when I wouldn’t get out of bed, and he was floundering.

The fear in his eyes. The despair in mine.

All the ways things could have gone wrong.

All the versions of our lives that ended differently.

I rest my hand over his, where it cups Amelie’s tiny back.

“Me too,” I whisper.

His eyes close briefly, and we simply sit here together, the three of us wrapped in the soft cocoon of the nursery.

Neither of us needs to say the rest aloud.

Things could have gone so differently, but somehow, through all the hurt and all the mistakes and all the darkness, we found our way back to each other.

Epilogue

Isaac

Five years later

I watch as the packers’ van disappears around the corner, and I stand here for a second with my hands on my hips. I stretch and feel my joints pop.

The house is finally empty, barring some bits and bobs.

It feels like taking a duster to the chalkboard of our lives for the last ten years. I feel a little nostalgic, but also like I’ve forgotten something important. I feel less and less like this these days, like if I stop paying attention for one second, the universe will remember it owes me a tragedy.

The intrusive thought creeps in uninvited.

Therapy and time have helped.

But more importantly, I have Luna, the one who brushes the thoughts away like cobwebs.

Some fears leave scars behind. Sometimes, you forget they are there, but then, your finger wanders back, remembering the wound.

I load the final box into the back of the car and glance across the driveway.

Luna is sitting on the steps beside Amelie.

My girls. The sight still catches me off guard sometimes, that I am lucky they are still mine.

Amelie has Luna’s green eyes. Luna says the rest looks like me—the dark hair, the shape of her smile, the curve of her nose. The way she gestures when she’s explaining something.

She has Luna’s stubbornness.

Amelie’s lower lip wobbles.

Uh-oh.