Maeve slept against Elena’s chest in a carrier, one tiny fist curled beneath her chin.
Elena stood at the railing for a long time, watching sunlight break over the water.
Her phone buzzed once in her coat pocket.
A message from Vivian.
Finalized. He signed.
No admissions, naturally. But you are done.
Elena read it twice.
Done.
The word didn’t feel dramatic. It felt clean.
She looked down at her daughter and smiled.
“Hear that?” she whispered. “We get to be boring now.”
Maeve made a sleepy protest noise and burrowed closer.
Elena laughed, then winced at the old habit of expecting pain. There was some, yes. There would be for a while.
But not the kind she had once built a marriage around.
Behind her, the city was waking up. Cars starting. Storefront gates rolling open. Coffee being poured somewhere nearby. Ordinary life, huge and indifferent and beautiful.
Ahead of her, the harbor widened into open water.
For the first time in years, Elena felt no need to look over her shoulder.
She shifted Maeve higher against her chest, turned toward the brightening street, and walked home into the day.
