part 36 : wounds we turned into wings

[Years Later]

An old photo album rested on a sunlit windowsill. The golden-embossed title read:

"Wounds We Turned Into Wings."

The sea breeze gently moved through the airy beach house, the sound of soft music filling the background. Fiona sat at a wooden desk by the window, pen in hand, her gaze soft as she looked out at the familiar, comforting scene outside. It was a scene she knew well—her friends, her family of choice, living out the moments they'd shared, together, in peace.

Outside, Dominic and Damien were arguing over who had flipped the burgers wrong, their voices carrying with the wind. Lucien was there too, teasing them both while manning the grill. His sleeves were rolled up, a soda in one hand and tongs in the other. Mismatched cushions were scattered across the deck, and the air smelled of grilled food and saltwater.

Fiona watched them, a soft smile curling at her lips. It was so simple, so real. It was exactly the kind of peace she had longed for—no drama, no need for anything more than this moment, shared between friends.

She picked up her pen and wrote the final lines in her notebook:

"Healing didn't come all at once.

But it came.

And when it did... it looked a lot like this:

Laughter, grilled food, old jokes, and the kind of peace you don't have to earn—just receive."

She placed her pen down slowly, closing the notebook with a soft sigh of contentment. She stood up and looked out the window again, watching her friends with affection. They were waving at her now, grinning, Dominic calling her name.

Dominic:

"Hey! If you don't come now, Damien's gonna burn the bread again!"

Damien:

"It's called toasting, you traitor!"

Fiona laughed, shaking her head, and as she began to tidy the table—folding a cloth napkin, grabbing a bowl of olives, balancing a plate of watermelon slices—she felt a warmth in her chest that she hadn't known in so long. This was home. This was where she was meant to be.

She walked barefoot onto the warm deck, her heart light, her soul at peace. They all sat together in the sun, their plates full, their hearts full. They talked, teased, and laughed—the kind of laughter that could only come after storms had passed, after the wounds had healed.

And in that moment, Fiona realized that it wasn't just the people in her life who had healed her—it was the love they shared, the moments they spent together, the joy in the simple, ordinary things. This was her healing, her peace.

She didn't need to search for anything anymore. She had everything she needed, right here, right now.

And as she looked at her friends, her family, the people who had walked with her through the darkest times, she knew that whatever came next, she was ready. Because she had learned the most important thing of all:

Healing wasn't about forgetting the past—it was about learning to live fully in the present, with all the love and laughter that life had to offer.

Fiona joined them at the table, her heart full. The laughter, the teasing, the warmth of the sun—it was all hers now. It was all theirs. And in that moment, Fiona knew with certainty: the best was yet to come.