192 — Epilogue
Daphne POV
It's getting harder to climb the stairs.
Each step feels like a war. My joints ache. My breath comes shorter than it used to. There was a time—God, not even so long ago—when I could carry my wife up three flights with ease.
Now?
Now the rail is my ally. I grip it tight, hauling my body up one slow stair at a time.
I remember when I said I wanted to grow old. Thought I was clever. Smug about it.
I may have overestimated myself.
Growing old sucks.
But I can't leave her. Not yet. Not ever, if I can help it.
I reach the bedroom at last. My knees ache. My back protests. I stand there a moment, catching my breath, hand on the doorframe.
Inside...
There she is.
My Estela.
She lies among the pillows—soft, white, warm—her hair a silver halo now.
Her eyes flutter open when she hears me. Some days she knows me. Some days... not so much.
