— Memories We Make
The days no longer felt like pages being torn off a calendar.
They felt like photographs being slipped into an album.
Slow. Soft. Worth keeping.
Elliot didn't wake up before dawn anymore.
He didn't buy canned coffee from vending machines.
Now, he'd sleep in just a little longer.
He'd wake to June humming in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing his wrinkled shirt, flipping pancakes too early for her own sake — just to see him smile.
"Don't act cool," she said once, grinning. "I saw your smile crack at the syrup."
They visited a botanical garden one morning.
He stared at the orchids like they were poems.
"I used to think nothing could grow inside me," Elliot said.
"But you… you watered something."
June took his hand and squeezed.
"Then let's grow it together."
Some nights, they danced in the living room — badly.
She'd put on cheesy 80s songs, and he'd follow her clumsy lead.
He stepped on her foot once.
She just laughed and kissed him like forgiveness was nothing.
One evening, Elliot found himself writing.
Not for work.
Not for anyone else.
Just… writing.
A letter.
"Dear younger me, I know you hated yourself for not saving her. I know you blamed yourself for what that teacher did. And for letting Claire walk away. But hear this: You weren't wrong.
You were just trying. I forgive you. I'm proud of you. And now, I'm finally living."
He folded it. Placed it in his drawer beside June's silly cat stickers and old movie tickets.
On the day the cherry blossoms fell like snow, June turned to him on a park bench.
"You know what I want?" she said.
"What?"
"To grow old. With you. Not because we have to. But because we can."
Elliot looked at her.
For the first time in years, he didn't feel like he was pretending to be human.
"Then let's grow old slowly," he said.
"Like trees do."
That night, as the moon hung full over the quiet town, Elliot whispered into June's ear:
"Thank you for proving I was worth staying for."
She kissed his forehead.
"And thank you for finally staying for yourself."
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
Unaware that in the next chapter of their lives, the clock was ticking.
But for now…
There were no echoes of Claire.
No gods whispering judgment.
Only warmth.
Only the hum of love,
and the silence of a soul finally at rest.
End of Chapter 17