Chapter Text
“Are you finally going to tell me why we aren’t going with them?” she asked Sergio after the faces of the gang’s members became merely blurred dots somewhere in the distance, and they all stopped waving each other goodbyes.
She and Sergio stood on the dock, having made sure that nobody was watching them not board the boat they were supposed to leave Europe in. The part of the deal they had negotiated with the Prime Minister after leaving the Bank was that the Banda would never step foot in Spain. And yet here she and Sergio were—still in Spain, even though it had looked as if they’d been ready to enter the deck and set off into international waters, never to be seen again. But right after Sergio had made sure that everyone knew what to do after they arrived at their destinations (most of them were returning home, as their locations hadn’t been discovered), he had bid everyone farewell and announced that the two of them weren’t coming. Denver had laughed and made a comment that the Professor probably wanted some time alone with Lisbon, but when Raquel asked her fiance if it was true, Sergio only kissed her on the temple and said that he didn’t want to spoil a surprise. Before that, she’d assumed that he meant to get the gold and secure it somewhere only he and maybe a few other members of the gang would know, but after such a peculiar response, she wasn’t so sure about it.
“Well, truth be told, I’d rather keep it as a surprise for a little longer,” he answered, completely serious.
Raquel shook her head with slight amusement. He was impossible sometimes; a riddle, or a magic trick, if you will, she’d once foolishly thought she’d figured out—but with this many aces up his sleeve, he still managed to do something that she wouldn’t expect. And she would be perfectly happy to keep solving the conundrum that he was for the rest of their life, even if that meant putting up with his quirks and crypticity.
And while she’d never been too keen on being surprised and not knowing something, she trusted him completely and was absolutely certain that whatever he had in mind was what was best for the two of them. So she decided not to argue with him and not try to choke the answers out of him—they had enough conflicts in the past few days, and she didn’t want to open up wounds that hadn’t had time to heal. The heist had brought the worst out of them and they were yet to talk everything through. Maybe they would, once they got some time alone.
When they got into a car they rented and drove hell only knows where, Raquel wondered what it was that Sergio had prepared. In any other circumstances she would definitely appreciate him going out of his way to orchestrate something surprising, romantic even, so that the two of them could spend a few days all by themselves, but after everything that had happened in the past few days, she just wanted their old life back. She was exhausted. She wanted to see her daughter and mother. She wanted stability, tranquillity, time and space to heal—for which she’d need her old meds, she noted. The chaos inside the Bank caused severe damage to her psyche, and even though everything was over, she still didn’t feel completely at peace. And Sergio keeping things from her only made her more nervous.
But she tried no to show her anxiety. She had a lot of practice at hiding her true emotions, both from work, where she’d been constantly mistreated and couldn’t show her real emotions in fear of looking incompetent, and from home, where her ex-husband couldn’t see how scared of him she had been, or else he’d gloated at the power he’d have over her. So, she easily composed herself, before she light-heartedly asked Sergio about his marriage of convenience to Alicia and what it was that had finally convinced her to change sides.
The two of them conversed for a while. They shared some thoughts about the heist and talked about unexpected friendships they had made along the way. They returned to their chat of buying a camper and going on a honeymoon trip, and Sergio promised to take her to the cities his plans owed their names. They tiptoed around the more difficult topics, not wanting to start a fight or to trigger post-traumatic stress and multitudes of tears, but they both knew that sooner or later they had to discuss them.
After some time, however, they both became quiet.
It was slowly getting dark outside, and the road went on and on. The more they spent in that car, in silence, with Sergio focused on the road, despite his yawns that started to get more frequent, and with Raquel too tired to continue conversing with him, the more restless she felt.
And then she saw what city they were entering, and she snapped, half-amused, half-exhausted.
“Lisbon? Really?”
“I thought you’d like the nod.”
“Yes, I do like it. But we have at least forty more years to visit them all—Lisbon, Paris, Rome, Hamelin—and…”
“Raquel. You don’t have to explain this to me. I know that you want to go home. I want it too. But I promise it will be worth it. And I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark, but, please, trust me on this, okay?”
“Fine.”
But she wasn’t fine.
They drove for a little while longer, and then they parked next to an apartment complexion. It was a calm, suburban area, similar to the one she used to live in, back in Madrid. The area was really green and modern—the neighbourhood looked like it had been built ten to fifteen years ago.
“Isn’t it too modern here?” she asked, suddenly worried about the security cameras. Even though they were officially dead and had new identities, she didn’t want to risk them being recorded and recognised less than forty-eight hours after their deal with colonel Tamayo that had gotten them out of the Bank, and less than twenty-four after their deal with the Prime Minister that had secured their freedom.
They got out of the car and stood on the well-lit parking lot, looking at the blocks of flats in front of them. It was almost dark, the sky colourful with orange clouds and different shades of blue. Sergio held the bag with their clothes in his left hand and took hers with his right.
“It should be fine for the night and for the next few days. Everything has been taken care of.”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Raquel closed her eyes for a second, taking in this moment of affection. Since they’d got engaged, something had shifted in him. He was more confident in showing his endearments and tried to articulate his feelings better, as if making up for all the fuck-ups he’d made along the way.
“Shall we?” he asked.
She nodded.
Sergio led the way to the right building. They nodded politely to the security guard in the concierge, acting like ordinary residents, and did their best to avoid looking suspicious. They took the lift into the second floor and went all the way through a long hallway into the apartment at the end. Sergio stopped and searched for the keys.
“I rented this apartment for two weeks, just in case. We can stay as long as you like.”
Raquel frowned.
“Why would we stay for so long?”
“You’ll see.”
Sergio opened the door for her and turned on the light in the entrance hall. She entered the apartment, and he walked in after her. She heard him put the bag on the floor and lock the door.
All that seemed almost right—the two of them, freshly engaged, returning home after a trip; him letting her through the door and then getting the luggage, her looking around the hall that she wished was theirs in their Palawan house, a wave of longing for home hitting her hard. But they weren’t home yet. It was just a distraction. A nice one, she had to admit, but still, a mere stop on their way back to their house on the island, their personal version of heaven. There was nothing extraordinary in this apartment that would make her want to stay here for more than a day.
And then she heard footsteps. Her heart started to beat faster, and every muscle in her body tensed. She was on high alert, her vision sharpened despite her exhaustion, her reflexes ready. She found herself back inside the Bank, and she had to keep her senses in check, so that she could get out alive and return to her family. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t in the Bank anymore—this place was new and alien, and she still didn’t know what to expect of it.
“Mom? Sergio?” She heard a familiar voice. Her heart jumped to her throat.
Her muscles immediately relaxed. She left out her breath. A weird sound escaped her open mouth. She felt her jaw shiver, as she tried to inhale and exhale.
Did he really…? She looked at Sergio with her eyes wide open in disbelief. He just smiled, as if he wanted to say something like “I told you it would be worth it”.
Her daughter walked out of one of the rooms, already in her pyjamas. Raquel’s heart soared. Tears gathered underneath her eyelids.
“You’re finally back!” Paula smiled, unaware of the turmoil inside Raquel’s head.
Raquel’s chin started to tremble. She rushed towards her daughter at the same moment that Paula rushed towards her. They embraced. Raquel shut her eyes. She tried not to break down, but holy fuck, she was about to. As her daughter’s arms tightened around her body, she could almost feel the heavy weight of her longing lift from her shoulders. Her daughter was here, safe. The Police didn’t find her, and they couldn’t harm her anymore.
(She was so scared that they would take Paula away from her…)
In her head, she heard Alicia’s faint voice, imitating Paula in the tent: “Mama, don’t leave me…”
She wouldn’t leave her daughter again.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look for Sergio. She mouthed thank you, more than grateful for him thinking of getting her family away from the Philippines, where they would have been likely found and taken into Police’s custody.
“Grandma!” Her daughter shouted over her shoulder, thankfully not letting go yet. Raquel wanted to stay like this forever. “Mom and Sergio are here!”
The older woman quickly appeared in the doorway. Raquel’s heartbeat even faster at the sight.
“There you are, my sweethearts!” Her mom greeted.
Raquel took a deep breath, fighting the urge to sob. But she couldn’t keep her tears away for any longer, and they streamed down her face, as Raquel’s mother joined the embrace.
(She was so scared she would never see the two of them again…)
“I missed you so much…” she whispered. She kissed the top of Paula’s head and her mom’s cheek.
“We missed you too, sweetie.” Her mother stroked Raquel’s face gently and swept away her tears.
Raquel hoped her trembling wasn’t too noticeable to mom and Paula, as they stood in this reconciling hug.
“Sergio, come here, too!” her mom shouted enthusiastically, and Raquel felt a sharp sting, because it wasn’t her who thought of it, even though she probably should’ve, considering how many times she’d encouraged Sergio to consider her mother and daughter as his family too—which she knew he deeply wanted, even though he would never say it unprovoked, not wanting to impose.
So, Sergio joined the group embrace. He stroked Paula’s hair gently, before he pulled Raquel and Marivi close. Raquel saw that he was on the brink of crying too. As they embraced each other, the two of them wept in relief and tried to hide it with laughter. Her and Sergio’s foreheads touched, and they looked deeply into each other’s eyes with love and a newly regained sense of peace. Their glances spoke.
We made it.
Thanks to you.
Thanks to you, too.
They all suddenly found themselves on the floor, deepening the embrace. Raquel placed her daughter on her knees. She pulled her closer to her chest. She hid her hand in Paula’s hair and rubbed her scalp with her fingertips. She took in her daughter’s scent. The aroma of the strawberry shampoo that she used to dislike because of how chemically it smelled, but Paula seemed to like very much, hit her nostrils. It somehow was her favourite smell now. New river of tears streamed down her face.
She was home. She was safe, and her family was safe too. They were all here, together. Everything was right.
And then it hit her.
Those were the things she had almost lost, things that she had consciously forsaken when she’d refused to sell Sergio out. She had been held at gunpoint, and she had chosen loyalty over her own life and had made a decision to give it up, even if it meant never seeing her loved ones again. She had thought it was the right thing to do—the only possible. When she’d felt the cold barrel of a gun on her forehead, she had thought she wouldn’t regret it, that she had been certain in her choice and that she had made peace with the consequences. But now, having been reunited with her family, she realised that she’d been so fucking close to making the gravest mistake possible. No, that she had actually made it, and the only reason that she hadn’t been executed, was that it hadn’t been a real execution. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been here. And this thought shook her to her core. Chill came down her spine.
She had almost died. More than once—both in the barn and then later, in the Bank, where she had insisted to go from the very beginning. She almost hadn’t returned from the heist.
Blame overwhelmed her. Her heart sank.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stop tears from streaming down her face.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…
She squeezed her daughter harder and snuggled up into her mom’s and Sergio’s embrace in an attempt to remind herself that she was here and that they were real. But all this, them reuniting happily after long days, weeks, months of separation, almost couldn’t have happened, and it was her fault.
She’d almost left her daughter as an orphan. She’d almost abandoned her mother who’d started to spend more time in the past than in the real world. She’d almost killed Sergio with the grief he’d felt after he had presumed her dead.
How could she have thought that she’d made peace with dying; with the prospect of becoming nothing, of being consumed by never ending darkness or anguish, by nullity, and of never seeing them again? How couldn’t she have felt any doubts when she’d repeated “I don’t know” while having a gun pressed to her forehead? How come she hadn’t put Paula and Marivi first? Her family was her everything, her weak spot. Threatening them was what had almost broken her when she had been being interrogated; Alicia insisting that Sergio would’ve wanted Raquel to give him up in exchange for her freedom and family—which they both had known to be true—was what had broken her. And she was supposed to just leave them?
She didn’t realise she started to sob uncontrollably out loud, until she heard her daughter’s voice:
“Mom, are you alright?”
This brought her back into the present.
She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to lie—keeping things from Paula would only antagonise her. But she couldn’t really tell her the whole story.
“I’m just overwhelmed,” she said, and that wasn’t exactly untrue.
She tried to compose herself, but the things she’d been thinking wouldn’t go away. Her whole body was trembling, her stomach was tied in a tight knot, and nausea overpowered her. All she felt was a drowning sense of guilt, self-reproach and self-loathing.
“Please, excuse me.”
She got up and quickly inspected which door could lead to the bathroom. She rushed inside and locked the door behind her, ignoring her mother and Sergio who exchanged some words that got muffled by the layer of wood between the two rooms.
She got to the sink and leaned on it for strength. As she looked in the mirror and stared into her swollen, bloodshot eyes—God, she looked like hell—she shook the deja vu feeling of the other time when she hid in a bathroom, overcome by a sudden, gut-wrenching realisation.
Her legs were wobbly. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, but her chest and throat hurt. She felt as if something really heavy crushed her and took her breath away. For a second, when she finally had her daughter in her arms and her mother close, with their bodies touching, she felt light as a feather, floating around soft clouds of comfort, but as the reality blasted her, she started to fall, and she crashed into the ground with so much force, that her bones felt as if they turned into dust.
She had almost sacrificed it all. She had been so close to never seeing her family again.
She wanted to scream.
A new wave of tears streamed down her face. Her vision got blurry. Her chin trembled. She had to sit down. She didn’t trust her legs enough. She sank into the toilet seat.
She wept. She wailed. She bawled her eyes out. She couldn’t remember when the last time she’d felt so wrecked was. She was unsure she had ever actually felt anything like it. Because nothing could compare to this.
The images of the horrors of the past days flashed through her mind. She had almost died more times than she could count. She had been in a crossfire, she had been shot at, while she had been almost defenceless with a rifle that had run out of bullets, she had been pointed at with different types of weapons that could have either heavily wounded her or killed her, she had been close to explosions that could have swept her from the surface of the earth in milliseconds, she had been held at gunpoint by a former friend. And she had been so afraid in those moments, how could she not be? But she had known what she’d signed for, and she’d made peace with dying trembling from fear and adrenaline. She had bravely faced hardships and stood confidently in her belief that she was fighting for the right cause. She hadn’t once regretted becoming Lisbon.
Which is why it hit her so much harder now. Realising how close she had been to not make it back, once she actually had, stripped her of the certainty and determination with which she had been leaving Palawan. She never should’ve gone with Sergio. She should’ve listened to him, when he’d practically begged her to stay behind after he’d told her of his plan to steal the gold to save a family member.
“Raquel?” She heard Sergio’s voice from the other side of the door.
“I’m fine. Please, leave me be.”
But they both knew that she didn’t mean that. Raquel processed her emotions alone, but had always had the urge to articulate her thoughts out loud, which was why she appreciated so much that Sergio was there for her to listen to her rambling whenever she needed it.
“Raquel, I don’t think you should be dealing with this on your own. Please open the door.”
He didn’t add out loud what Raquel thought he wanted—something like “please, don’t make me pick the lock.”
In normal circumstances Sergio wouldn’t invade her privacy like that and would wait patiently until she was ready to invite him in and share her worse moment with him, instead of banging on the door with urgency only known to people scared to lose sight of their loved ones. But those weren’t normal circumstances. And he was right—she shouldn’t be dealing with this by herself.
She walked over to the door and opened it.
“I look like shit,” she warned him.
She wasn’t trying to fish for compliments. What she meant by this was that the way she looked represented how she was feeling. Though, truth be told, she felt even worse.
Having closed the door behind him, Sergio just pulled her to him. As he locked his arms around her, all pain came free. It hurt her damn much to know how close they had been to never see each other again, to never hug like that again. What if she had died and had been consumed by nullity, and they wouldn’t have been able to reunite in the afterlife? What if something had gone wrong and they wouldn’t have been reunited in this life? Because she had almost lost him too—she had almost taken away her choice to save his life over hers, in that tent, and had almost turned him in in order to save Paula and mom. There were so many regrets and even more “what if’s” in her head that she feared it would explode.
God, she was a mess…
But his embrace helped her with her mind drifting away into the worst places. He anchored her, reminded her that she was alive, that she was still here, despite her choices. The longer he held her, the more her mind eased. She heard her thoughts quieten; she felt warmth wrap her just like his arms wrapped around her.
They sank into the bathroom floor. Sergio held her, not saying a word, and she was grateful that he didn’t try to take pity on her or didn’t try to talk her down, feeding her with trivialities, because that would only agitate her instead of comforting. It wasn’t a surprise, though, that he knew how to approach her. It sometimes seemed that he understood her better than she did herself—and it worked the other way, too. And right now, they both knew that his presence was enough. He didn’t have to say anything or do anything more than just be here for her. It was her who had to get her shit together, and she could do that on her own. All that was left for him to do was to support her in this process.
When she felt a bit calmer, she finally let go of him. They changed their positions to a more comfortable one and sat next to each other, leaning their backs against the wall. Raquel put her head on Sergio’s shoulder.
“You were right,” she confessed through a lump in her throat after a while of sitting in silence.
She never liked admitting to him out loud that he was right. Whenever they disagreed on something, she stubbornly stood her ground, even though she was wrong about it. And when it was time for her to concede defeat, she always said something like “I reanalysed the arguments, and I think your point was more correct than mine,” but she never blatantly acknowledged that he was right, and she wasn’t.
“I shouldn’t have gone with you.”
It was a hard truth. But it was a correct conclusion—she had been more of a problem than help during the heist, and she reaped what she had sown with her obstinacy, bad temper and inability to succumb. She was paying the price now. She couldn’t look at her daughter and mother without tearing up. She couldn’t look at him without reminiscing about the ugly things they had both said. She couldn’t look at herself in the mirror without guilt.
“Don’t say that…” He grabbed her hand gently. “You were a pivotal member of the group. Your intelligence, leadership, and ability to remain cool during the heat were indispensable. We wouldn’t have made it without you.”
Raquel shook her head.
“I only complicated things… And I was the reason plan Roma went into action. If I hadn’t entered the Bank…”
“Everyone knew what they were signing for,” he interrupted her, before she could add ‘Tokyo might’ve still been alive.’ “Everyone knew the risks. Please don’t blame yourself.”
“Oh, so that you could blame yourself for it instead?” she snapped.
He didn’t answer.
“That’s what I thought…”
They were both quiet for a while. They both had a lot of baggage they needed to unpack. They both carried the guilt for what had happened in the Bank. They were the leaders, and they both felt that they had failed in a way. Because they hadn’t gotten everyone alive. Because they had lost the message of the resistance, of being Robin Hoods, in the fire, in the war that had been too brutal and too bloody for a movement that had started as a bloodless attempt to steal money that hadn’t belonged to anyone.
The price they’d paid for their return as the Dalís had been too high. Tokyo had wanted to save Rio, and she had lost her life in the process. Sergio had wanted to pay tribute to his brother, and he had almost lost her, another member of his family, in almost exactly the same way as he’d lost Andres. Raquel had wanted retribution for how she had been treated in the Police force, and she had only caused real harm to real people, instead of helping dismantle the system that had failed to protect her, and she had almost lost everything because of it.
Had any of it been worth it?
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she said. And she meant it all—participating in the heist, and then almost giving her life up. “I thought I wouldn’t regret my decisions…”
She did now. She hated how easily she had forsaken everything for a doomed cause that had been won by sheer luck. She hated how easily the things that mattered the most to her could have been taken from her: her family, her freedom, her life.
“But I just keep thinking how I would feel, if I really couldn’t return to them.” She nodded at the door, behind which her mother and daughter probably waited. “And to you.”
She sighed.
“Well, in the worst-case scenario I wouldn’t be able to feel anything, because I would be dead…” Her voice cracked.
Her heart ached.
“I just want to scream at my past self ‘Don’t go, you idiot!’”
Don’t sacrifice your own family and everything you ever held dear for your partner’s family you barely got to know and his impossible plan you had nothing to do with, she finished in her head. Perhaps tomorrow, after her emotions settled, and her exhaustion that only enhanced her distress faded away, she would again feel proud for being a part of the Banda. But right now, all she felt was self-condemnation. In the past week she had around twenty-four hours of sleep and she was just so fucking done… She wished she could just erase those days and pretend nothing had happened.
Sergio squeezed her hand, but it didn’t help.
“All I’m thinking is how much Paula would have hated me if I hadn’t come back…” she continued.
She was a shit mother. She’d left her daughter for two and a half months with a heavy heart, but ultimately barely batting an eye. She’d chosen the plan over returning home, not thinking what this would do to her. Raquel wouldn’t be able to count how many times she’d faced grave danger, knowing damn well that sometimes even the smallest units of measurement stood between her and the possibility of not seeing her daughter grow up. How could she forgive herself for this?
How could Paula forgive her for this?
“Paula would have never hated you…” insisted Sergio.
“Oh, she would. Try explaining to a nine-year-old why her mother chose to abandon her.”
Sergio didn’t say anything.
“And try to tell me now that you didn’t hate me when you thought I had been executed,” she continued, not waiting for his attempt at making a counter argument—she didn’t want to hear his lecture about how she had no reason to overreact, that in the end everything had ended up well, that she hadn’t actually abandoned her daughter, and that she had returned from the heist safely. She was perfectly aware of all that. And yet she couldn’t stop feeling remorse.
She knew she gagged him.
“Raquel, it’s not as simple…” he began.
“I think it is.”
“No, it isn’t…”
“Then tell me you weren’t angry with me, I dare you.” She needed to hear that she wasn’t the only one who was furious at herself, that he knew what she felt like right now. She was certain he couldn’t deny it. And it felt fucking good to be right.
“No, please, listen to me. When I thought you were dead, I was devastated. All I saw was red. I was angry at everything, including you. I hated that you decided to give your life up for me, especially because I thought I didn’t deserve this. I hated that you left me with the responsibility of raising a child that I wouldn’t have been able to look in the eye. But most importantly I hated that I wouldn’t see you again. I was drowning with guilt over not being able to save you. I— I even considered ending it all—”
He teared up. Raquel felt her eyes water yet again.
“I didn’t know where to channel my fury, my anguish. I was angry with myself first and foremost and then with everyone else, with Tokyo and Rio for beginning this mess, with Sierra and Suarez for ripping you away from me, even with innocent people who were just a part of the police force and didn’t have anything to do with executing you. I was willing to burn the whole world down, this is how much I couldn’t think straight. I was blinded with rage. So yes, I was angry with you, for a while.”
Sorrow squeezed her throat. Perhaps she had been too harsh to him, putting so much pressure to get an answer she wanted out of him.
“But I understood why you did what you did.”
Because I would’ve done the same for you, remained unspoken. There was no need to say out loud what they both knew so well.
“And while I was certain that I wouldn’t be able to make peace with losing you, I knew that you did what you thought was right, and I could have never blamed you for making that choice. I always trusted your judgement and I always will.”
A tear of affection fell from her eye.
Being respected to the point that he was willing to somewhat accept that she’d chosen to sacrifice herself for him, despite his overwhelming grief, meant the world to her. No one had ever put so much faith in her decision making and her opinions, not like he had. They might have quarrelled, disagreed on occasions, especially under pressure, but at the end of the day, Sergio had never imposed his will on her. He’d humbly lowered his head and allowed her to go with her decision, even if it meant that he would’ve gotten hurt in consequence.
She nodded, in understanding and gratitude.
“And I think in time Paula would’ve gotten to the same conclusions.”
She let this small lie pass.
“Please, don’t battle yourself over this.”
Sergio pulled her closer. They stayed like this for a while, a silence between them finally comfortable. In his arms Raquel felt safe to put everything in her head in the right place and to form cohesive, sensible conclusions. She had made decisions she regretted, yes, but she had done what she’d deemed right or at least necessary in the heat of the moment when she hadn’t got the privilege to overanalyse her position or take every factor into consideration. She couldn’t be too harsh judging them now from the perspective she had been lacking then. The concept of good and bad, worth doing and deplorable, was really fragile and ever-changing, always dependent on circumstances, and even on one’s state of mind and emotions. Whatever she had regretted while she’d been holding her family, overcome by a chilling realisation about the “almosts” and “what-ifs,” the next day she could find pardonable. It wasn’t a black or white matter, just like the world wasn’t black or white.
She couldn’t take her choices back—and even if she could, she wasn’t certain that she would, not anymore—and she couldn’t change the past. The only thing that she could do now was to make peace with her decisions and in time, maybe, forgive herself, just like Sergio had convinced her he could’ve been able to forgive her. And if he was assured that her judgement had been the correct one and didn’t hate her for her choices, then she could stop berating herself for them. Because in the end she did all of this for love. And love was something worth both fighting and sacrificing yourself for.
The most important thing, however, was that in the end things had worked out in their favour, and that she’d returned to her family. She was still here.
They both were, she and the man who put more trust in her than she herself did; the man who loved her, and whom she loved back. They’d survived this war and had walked out beaten and bloody, with heads full of worries and regrets, but ultimately stronger, more than certain of the nature of their relationship, vowing they would always be each other’s. This thought soothed her.
As the minutes passed, she regained her composure.
“I think I’m ready to return to them,” she announced, and a moment later the two of them walked out of the bathroom to finally have a proper reunion with their family.