Epilogue

Sometimes when we reach our end, we don't know it until it's too late.

When Emma came back from the 15th century, the accident happened too fast for her to react. Her body was thrown out of the flipped car, killing her instantly as she holds the stone and white rose soaked with her blood.

Soon, the police arrived to discover her body and another victim inside the car. The woman identified as Iris Mayfields miraculously survived the ordeal as Emma's daughter and uncle wept for Emma's death.

When Thomas witnessed the burial of her brother, he did not expect to witness the same thing with his beloved niece. She was like a daughter to her and has now unfortunately orphaned her 10-year-old daughter. When they arrive home, Venus is inconsolable.

Her mother was patient, kind, and understanding of her stubbornness. Knowing what it feels like to be her in the past has greatly helped her raise her daughter, especially in difficult times.

Even with the difficulty of handling her degree, she manages to focus on her daughter. Venus found herself remembering the memories she had with her late mother. The library is the one place that she usually frequents daily, just like her father once did. As she silently weeps for her grief, Thomas walks toward her with a journal in hand.

"Venus." He said as he approached her, making her turn around to face her. When she did, the first thing she noticed was the leather-bound journal that has her mother's initials. "Your mother has always intended for you to read this." He outstretched his arms towards her to give her the journal. When she took it in her hands, she runs her fingers through the initials on the cover. ESF. "You may read it whenever you are ready."

"Thank you, Uncle." She said, following Thomas's insistence on calling him uncle instead of 'great-uncle'.

Her face is filled with longing, something that Thomas has seen in Emma's eyes during Constantine's passing. He knew that Emma's gone but looking into Venus—who has taken so much of her mother—feels like looking at the younger version of Emma. She lives within her, he thought. "Your mother has also wished for you to have this." He then fished out a necklace that has long been passed down to their family. "This stone is special. It can lead you to many great things. I hope you use it wisely."

The warning was odd for Venus but she decided to say nothing nonetheless. Now that the stone has its new owner, Thomas wonders about the doors it will open for her. Will she follow in her mother's footsteps and create a life hidden within history or will she use it for something else? He asks himself.

In the year 1497, in late February, Botticelli found himself hopelessly downhearted when Emma fails to come back as she promised. The 52-year-old painter got up from bed, dresses up, and prepare for an uneventful day. There is not a moment where he did not think of his evening star and willed her to come back.

His patronage for the Medici family soon grew to disdain as he blames them for the loss of his beloved wife. It is one of the reasons why he chose to side with Girolamo Savonarola, a Dominican friar who campaigns for reforms for the church and the famous bonfire of the vanities.

He was also responsible for kicking the Medici's rule in Florence with his powerful speeches about faith and God.

Botticelli remembers every single panel and canvas he has thrown on the fire, out of pain and grief. Some of them are the portraits of his wife he had painted while they were still living together in the hopes that perhaps it would help him move on.

Despite the many paintings he has sacrificed, they failed to fill the void that was left upon Emma's departure.

Even with his wife gone, the only face he could see is hers. The Madonnas he painted for the church always include her face despite his suppression of her memory inside his head. In his loneliness, he found little comfort in seeing her face in the paintings he makes no matter how much he denies it to himself.

As he sketches a drawing of her from memory, he heard the door open in his studio. He was not expecting any disturbances from his apprentices until later this afternoon, hence his annoyance upon hearing the noise.

He immediately got up and walk toward where the noise is coming from. When he found the culprit, he suddenly drops the charcoal he has been holding on the floor. "Antonia?" He whispers.

Her red hair blazes when the light touches her long locks that reach the middle of her back, she's wearing the same dress she wore before she left. Botticelli's heart beats hard like a drum in his chest.

He has always waited for her patiently but his hope soon wavers as the day passes him by. One look is all he needs from her hazel eyes. One glance and she'll ignite every feeling he has pushed down inside.

When the woman turns around, Botticelli's hope dissipates completely upon seeing her amber eyes. She's not my evening star, he thought. "Messer Alessandro Filipepi?" She asks.

Botticelli hid his disappointment well with a polite smile as he spoke. "Yes, but everyone calls me Sandro Botticelli." He began to feel unfamiliar being called by his real name. Rarely anyone ever calls him that except for Emma.

The young woman walks closer to him and somehow, he feels as if he is looking at his wife. She smiles back at him and says, "I've been waiting my entire life to see you." He furrows his brows in confusion. He tries to scour his memories of her but to no avail. He wonders how she knew of him until he saw something familiar around her neck but when he looks into her eyes, everything falls into place. "My name is Venus, your daughter."

The old man suddenly felt weak and lightheaded. He has always wished for a family with his wife and after all this time, he finally learns that he has. With his eyes starting to well up with tears, he closes the gap between them and hugs her tightly. "My daughter." He whispers.

Both are overwhelmed with emotions that started pouring out of their hearts. They have only met and yet love prevailed. When they were able to collect themselves, they walk outside and sat down by the banks of Arno to catch up with the times they each have missed with one another.

Sitting next to his daughter, he could not help but think of the woman he once looks at lovingly in the same spot years ago. "Your mother would sit here to think. The flow of the water gives her solace." Botticelli said as he looks at the river with the memory of Emma enjoying the calmness that the river provides.

Venus looks around and marvels at the beautiful landscape her mother was able to live with for the past 9 years. "Mom seldom fails to do her daily strolls. Did she do it here too?" She asks as he looks at her father smiling peacefully at her.

"Yes, she does. Her daily walks would sometimes lead her to the cupola or in here. Either way, she loved the view of the city." The question soon pops into his mind. "Why wasn't she with you?"

Venus's face suddenly changes to a somber expression as she faces down. "I'm sorry but mom passed away 8 years ago in my time. I was only 10 years old then." Botticelli has hoped for an explanation as to why she never made it but out of all the reasons he was hoping to hear, death was the last thing he expected. "She was driving her car home when the accident happened." She continued. At that moment, Botticelli was certain he felt and heard his heart breaking into pieces. He clutches his aching heart as he listens. "She has always wanted to come back but I, unfortunately, postponed it all. She feared that I might not survive infancy if she comes back too soon. She's grown too scared of my well-being that she sacrificed the times that she could have shared with you." With each word, Botticelli's cheeks became wet with tears. He loved his wife more than anything and hearing about her passing makes him doubt his willingness to live. "Forgive me. I could have traveled sooner but I was consumed with doubts and fear."

He wanted to hear from her sooner, he would have loved to spend the lost time honoring her memory with more portraits of her instead of burning half of it to the fire.

Despite the ability of the Suttons to travel through time, time is something that cannot be controlled. Even then, he could not find even a speck of disappointment in his daughter.

As she begins to cry, he pulled her close once again and hug her. His shirt became wet with her tears but having her by his side gave him peace against the waves of pain and grief. "It's alright, Mia figlia. Losing the people that we love is a part of our lives. In times of pain, perhaps their happy memories will help us get through it all."

Walking back home, they stumble upon the Duomo. Botticelli looks up at the cupola. For years, he waited for Antonia up there as he willed the stone for her to come back. Soon, the stairs proved too difficult for his aging body that he can only look on. The one place where they felt safe and free now stood tall and unattainable just like his beloved Antonia. "I would have taken you up there." He said as he continues to look on, imagining that Antonia is up there waving at them. "I've grown too old to be able to see the magnificent view we have always loved." Venus looks up at the picture of her parents looking down from above inside her head. The thought makes her smile.

When they get back home, Botticelli procures a small chest underneath his bed. Antonia has left many things that were passed down by her parents. Now, as a parent himself, he is now handing over the things that have always been meant for their child.

"If you would permit an old man's wish, I would love for you to have this." He set the chest on the table.

Venus then opened the chest and it revealed so many valuable things that she does not expect. The torques, the pieces of jewelry, and the journals. Her mother speaks of the things she has left in Florence that she was hoping to show to her but Venus did not realize the significance of the contents.

"These are my mothers?"

Botticelli nodded. "It was left by your grandparents for her. Now, it's passed down to you."

She closes her chest as she smiles at her father. "I'll make sure to take it home with me." She then began to remember something she meant to give to him. She fishes out a few things from her pocket and gave them to him. "I cannot stay, but I would love for you to have these. In memory of my mom and me."

He takes sealed letters and colored photographs of Antonia and Venus. His heart melted upon gazing at her face. He places the photograph close to his chest as he smiles gratefully at his daughter. "Thank you."

It's been days since Venus visited him, and Botticelli could not look away from the photographs given to him. He aches for his wife and daughter but he is learning to accept the truth one day at a time.

"I'm glad to see you smiling even for a bit, my friend." Botticelli turns to see Ailbe walking toward him with a smile. "I see you have met your daughter."

"How did you know?" That is the only question he managed to ask.

"I'm always around even when you don't see me."

"Why didn't you appear to me before? Why didn't you show up when Antonia and I needed you the most? She could have stayed if you'd only helped." Botticelli said as he looks back at the photographs.

"You're wrong. I would not have been able to do anything."

"Simona spoke of you as if you hold the most valuable knowledge in this world as if you have abilities mere mortals such as myself cannot comprehend."

"Maybe so, but I am not allowed to interfere with what's supposed to unfold." She said sympathetically. Botticelli is too clouded to see the regret in Ailbe's eyes. If he had focused on it, he would have been able to see it.

"What happens now?"

"You will see her again. Trust me." The ever-elusive druid then taps Botticelli's shoulders and left. When she's gone, Botticelli decided to open the letter he was not able to open before. As he reads, he cannot help but imagine her writing solemnly with her left hand.

Dear Sandro,

My love, I ask for your forgiveness. It's been 8 years since I arrived in the 20th century and I was not able to come back because of our daughter. Yes, we have a daughter, Sandro. She looks so much like me but her eyes are a definite copy of yours. Looking into her amber orbs reminds me of you. I wish you could have been here. I wish I could have taken you with me. I was not able to go back because I fear for our daughter's sake in the 15th century. As soon as she's old enough, I promise to come home to you. I love you so much, Sandro. I think of you every day. Know that I always love you no matter where I go. Wait for us, my love. We'll be together again soon.

Indefinitely yours,

Emma Filipepi

The letter was short but it was enough to sate Botticelli's heart with the love he has always longed for all these years. For the woman he has waited for, he knew that he would wait again if it means he could see her sweet smile, gaze upon her beautiful hazel eyes, and hold her warmth once again.

In 1505, Botticelli soon became too ill to work. Due to a lack of commissions and the rise of new talents, Botticelli's name soon disappears from the art world. He stayed within the confines of his home until his death on May 17, 1510.

On his deathbed, AIlbe's words came true as Botticelli saw Antonia reaching out for her as she smiles. He wished to be buried by the foot of Simonetta Vespucci's tomb. A lot of people have speculated that his wish may be because of his unrequited love for the woman.

Little did everyone know that the reason was to hide the room Constantine made for Emma and to honor the woman which ultimately led to the great love for Botticelli. It is an allegory to the mother of his beloved and secret muse.