Updated Feb 20, 2026 • ~6 min read
WESTLEY
We honeymoon in Maui.
Two weeks of beach. Sun. Each other.
“I could stay here forever,” Lucia says.
We’re on the beach at sunset.
“We’d run out of money eventually.”
“Details.”
I pull her closer.
“This is nice though. Just us. No work. No obligations.”
“No drama.”
“That too.”
We swim.
Explore.
Make love in our beachfront bungalow.
It’s perfect.
LUCIA
On our last night, we have dinner on the beach.
Private. Romantic.
“Thank you for this,” I say.
“For what?”
“For marrying me. For forgiving me. For this amazing honeymoon.”
“You don’t have to thank me for loving you.”
“I know. But I want to.”
We hold hands across the table.
“What are you most excited about?” he asks. “When we get home?”
I think.
“Starting our real life. As a married couple.”
“What does that look like to you?”
“Honestly? The boring stuff. Grocery shopping together. Paying bills. Fighting over whose turn it is to do dishes.”
He laughs.
“That’s what you’re excited about?”
“Yeah. The everyday. The ordinary. With you.”
His eyes soften.
“Me too.”
WESTLEY
We get home to Seattle.
Back to reality.
But it’s a good reality.
Our apartment. Our life. Our marriage.
Lucia goes back to work at the coffee shop.
But she’s also writing.
Actually writing.
Every morning before her shift.
“How’s the novel coming?” I ask.
“Good. Really good actually.”
“Can I read it?”
She hesitates.
“It’s not done yet.”
“So? I want to read what you have.”
She emails me the first three chapters.
I read them that night.
They’re incredible.
Raw. Honest. Emotional.
“Lucia, this is really good.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. You have talent. Real talent.”
She blushes.
“Thanks.”
“When you finish, you should submit it. To publishers.”
“West—”
“I’m serious. This deserves to be published.”
LUCIA
His faith in me is overwhelming.
But also empowering.
I write more.
Faster.
Three months after the wedding, I finish the novel.
Eighty thousand words.
A complete book.
“I did it,” I tell West.
“You did!”
He picks me up. Spins me around.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“Now I just have to find an agent. And a publisher. And—”
“One step at a time.”
But he’s already researching.
Making lists of agents.
Helping me write a query letter.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say.
“I want to. I believe in you.”
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
WESTLEY
Six months into marriage, we find our rhythm.
We fight sometimes.
About stupid things.
Whose turn to clean. What to watch on TV. Where to go for dinner.
But we always make up.
Always talk it through.
Always choose each other.
“Marriage is work,” I tell Jonah.
“But good work?”
“The best work.”
Lucia gets an agent.
Then a book deal.
“I’M GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!” she screams.
I’m at work when she calls.
“That’s amazing! I’m coming home. We’re celebrating.”
We go to the fancy restaurant where I proposed.
Champagne. Dessert. Everything.
“This is surreal,” she says.
“You did this. You worked hard. You deserve it.”
“We did this. You pushed me. Believed in me.”
“That’s what partners do.”
LUCIA
The book comes out a year after our wedding.
“He Thinks I’m Someone Else”
A romance novel about mistaken identity.
Sound familiar?
It’s semi-autobiographical.
Fictionalized. But rooted in truth.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask West. “With me writing about us?”
“As long as you change the names.”
“Already did.”
The book is a success.
Not a bestseller.
But good reviews. Solid sales.
“I’m a published author,” I say, holding the physical book.
“You’re a published author,” West confirms.
Carmen calls.
“I read it. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re not mad I wrote about everything?”
“Mad? I’m honored. You told our story. Our messy, complicated, beautiful story.”
WESTLEY
Two years into marriage.
We’re at a coffee shop.
Not the one where we met.
A new one.
“Want kids?” Lucia asks out of nowhere.
I nearly choke on my latte.
“What?”
“Kids. Do you want them? Someday?”
“I… haven’t really thought about it.”
“Well think about it.”
I do.
Picture a little girl with Lucia’s eyes.
Or a boy with her smile.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
She grins.
“Good. Me too.”
“Are you saying—”
“Not yet. But soon. Maybe.”
The idea plants itself.
Grows.
A family.
Our family.
LUCIA
We don’t rush kids.
But we talk about it.
Plan for it.
“Two kids,” I say.
“Three,” West counters.
“Compromise. Two and we’ll see.”
“Deal.”
We buy a house.
Nothing fancy.
But ours.
With a yard. An office for me. A workshop for West.
Room to grow.
“This is ours,” I say, standing in the empty living room.
“All ours.”
We paint. Furnish. Make it a home.
WESTLEY
Three years into marriage.
I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
Successful career.
Beautiful wife.
Published author wife.
Our own home.
“Life is good,” I tell Tate.
“It really is.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For pushing me to give Lucia another chance. I almost didn’t.”
“But you did. That’s what matters.”
We’re at a bar.
Guy’s night.
“Ever think about where you’d be if Carmen hadn’t disappeared?” Tate asks.
I consider it.
“Probably miserable. We weren’t right for each other.”
“But Lucia is.”
“Yeah. She’s everything.”
LUCIA
Carmen visits for Christmas.
The trial is over.
She’s free.
“I’m moving back to Seattle,” she announces.
“Really?!”
“Really. I miss home. Miss you.”
We cry.
Hug.
“You’re staying with us until you find a place,” West insists.
“I don’t want to impose—”
“You’re family. You’re not imposing.”
She stays for two months.
We have sister movie nights.
Cook together.
Talk about everything.
It’s the relationship we should have had all along.
WESTLEY
Having Carmen around is strange at first.
But then it’s just… normal.
She’s Lucia’s sister.
My sister-in-law.
Family.
She gets a job at a local library.
Finds an apartment near us.
Starts dating a guy named Marcus.
“You approve?” she asks me.
“Do I have to approve?”
“You’re the only family I have here besides Lucia. So yeah.”
“Then I approve. He seems good.”
“He is.”
Life settles.
Into this beautiful, normal routine.
END OF CHAPTER 25
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