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They were also…us.

Me and Zarek. Twisted sideways. Put in a different world with magic and monsters and a war-torn city instead of Jasper Creek and grief and a nursery that stayed empty.

Seris, who couldn’t speak. Kael, who carried everyone else’s weight until it crushed him.

I wasn’t sure how we resolved. So how was I supposed to know how to resolve them?

“I honestly don’t know,” I said finally. “I don’t know if they get to ride off into a sunset or if they just…keep walking, separately, but not destroyed.”

“No.” Edith sounded like she was talking to a recalcitrant toddler. “No ma’am. I love you, but absolutely not. This is not that kind of manga. You write hope. You always have. You don’t have to give them babies and white picket fences, but you do have to let them be together, okay? They’re your characters. You can do literally anything to them—and you have—but you can’t just…leave them alone after everything.”

Something in my chest pinched.

“I know,” I whispered.

“Look,” she said, relenting a little. “I’m not asking you to spit out the perfect ending today. I know it’s tangled up with…stuff.”

She didn’t say Kristen. She didn’t say the word miscarriage. Edith didn’t know the specifics, but she knew enough to handle my landmines with care.

“But I need a timeline,” she continued. “Even a loose one. Is this a two-week thing? A month? I want to start the marketing machine, but I’m not going to throw you under the bus by promising a date you can’t hit.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling of my little Gatlinburg apartment.

Another month. Could I untangle Seris and Kael in a month? Could I untangle myself?

“I need another month, maybe two,” I said. “At least. I’ll work my ass off, I swear. But the way it ends…” I swallowed. “The way it ends is going to be a surprise. To you. To the readers. To me.”

She blew out a breath. “All right. Six weeks. I can work with that. We’ll do soft teases—character art, maybe a behind-the-scenes reel—without promising specifics.” Her tone shifted back to brisk. “But I’m holding you to those six weeks, Chloe. Put it on your calendar. Tattoo it on your hand.”

“I’ll write it on a sticky note,” I said. “That’s my level of commitment today.”

She snorted. “Fine. Go make art. Or, you know, live your life or whatever normal people do on Saturdays.”

“I’m making potato salad,” I said.

There was a beat.

“Of course you are,” she said. “You’re the only manga artist I know who makes emotional potato salad. Send me a picture of the bowl, I’ll use it in the marketing.”

I laughed, even as my throat burned. “Goodbye, Edith.”

“Love you, menace. Talk soon.”

The call clicked off.

I sat there for a second, the apartment weirdly quiet after her voice disappeared. Seris gazed up at me from the page, eyes full of ruins and stubborn hope.

“I don’t know how to fix us yet,” I told her softly. “But I’m trying.”

She didn’t answer, obviously.

With a sigh, I set the page aside, pushed back from the table, and went into the tiny kitchen. The bowl of half-mixed potato salad sat on the counter, mocking me with its chunked potatoes and chopped pickles and celery.

“Okay,” I told it. “Let’s make you socially acceptable.”

I stirred in the mayonnaise, tasted, adjusted the salt, added more dill, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that I was making side dishes for a family barbecue that my almost-ex-husband might or might not attend.

Fuck that noise. Zarek was not my almost-ex-husband. He was my husband, goddammit. He was the love of my life. And he damn well better attend.