Updated Mar 21, 2026 • ~8 min read
SUMMER – TEN YEARS POST-EXPLOSION
Phoenix is three now.
Talking in full sentences. Running everywhere. Pure chaos.
And I’m pregnant again.
Five months. It’s a boy this time.
“Mama, look!” Phoenix shows me her drawing.
It’s… abstract.
“It’s beautiful, baby.”
“It’s you and Daddy and me and the baby!”
I squabble Phoenix is depicted much larger than everyone else.
Accurate representation of how she sees herself.
Jax comes home. Tired but smiling.
“How’s my favorite girl?”
Phoenix runs to him. “Daddy!”
He scoops her up. Kisses her head.
Then kisses me. Hand on my belly.
“How’s my favorite boy?”
“Kicking. A lot.”
“Takes after his dad.”
“God help us.”
JAX – SHOP EXPANSION
We’re opening a third location.
Manhattan this time.
Marco’s running Brooklyn. Felix is running the second shop.
I’m overseeing all three. Plus doing custom work.
It’s a lot.
But good.
“You’re building an empire,” Summer says.
“We both are.”
Her gallery has two locations now. About to open a third.
We’re both hustling.
But making it work.
“What time is Phoenix’s dance recital?” I ask.
“Six. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
I’m never late anymore.
I learned that lesson.
SUMMER – PHOENIX’S DANCE RECITAL
She’s dressed as a butterfly.
Tiny. Adorable. Completely uncoordinated.
But she’s trying.
Jax arrives right on time.
Sits next to me. Holds my hand.
“She’s killing it,” he whispers.
Phoenix is facing the wrong direction.
“She’s definitely killing something.”
We laugh.
After, Phoenix runs to us.
“Did you see me?!”
“You were amazing!”
“I was the best butterfly!”
“Absolutely.”
This is parenthood.
Lying to boost their confidence.
We’re nailing it.
JAX – BABY #2 ARRIVES
Four months later, our son is born.
Easier birth than Phoenix.
Six hours start to finish.
We name him Atlas.
Strong. Grounded.
Everything I want him to be.
“He looks like you,” Summer says.
“Poor kid.”
She laughs. Exhausted but happy.
Phoenix meets her brother that afternoon.
“He’s so small,” she says.
“You were that small once.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She touches his tiny hand.
“Hi, Atlas. I’m your big sister. I’m going to teach you everything.”
Jax and I exchange looks.
We’re in trouble.
SUMMER – SIX MONTHS LATER (11 YEARS POST-EXPLOSION)
Two kids. Two businesses. One marriage.
We’re exhausted.
But happy.
“We need help,” I tell Jax.
“Like a nanny?”
“Or family. My mom offered.”
“To babysit?”
“To move closer. Help out.”
Jax considers this.
“You want your mom around more?”
“I think so. We’re different now. Better.”
“Then let’s do it.”
My parents move to Brooklyn.
Ten minutes away.
It’s… good.
My mother watches Phoenix and Atlas twice a week.
Gives us date nights.
Breathing room.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“For what?”
“For being here. For helping.”
“That’s what grandmothers do.”
JAX – DATE NIGHT
Summer and I are at a restaurant.
No kids. No work.
Just us.
“When’s the last time we did this?” she asks.
“Before Atlas. So… seven months?”
“Too long.”
“Agreed.”
We order wine. Catch up.
“How’s the gallery?”
“Busy. Good. You?”
“Same.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
Then I say, “I miss you.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know. But with the kids and work, we barely connect.”
“You’re right. We need to prioritize us.”
“Weekly date nights?”
“Deal.”
We clink glasses.
Because marriage takes work.
Even good marriages.
SUMMER – PHOENIX STARTS SCHOOL
Kindergarten.
She’s five now. Confident. Loud. Fearless.
I’m crying at drop-off.
“Mom, don’t be weird,” Phoenix says.
“I’m not weird. You’re just growing up too fast.”
“I’m five.”
“Exactly. Too fast.”
Jax pulls me away.
“Let her go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“What if the other kids are mean?”
“Then she’ll handle it. She’s tough.”
He’s right.
Phoenix is tough.
She gets that from both of us.
JAX – ATLAS TURNS TWO
He’s walking now. Talking. Getting into everything.
The opposite of Phoenix.
Where she’s loud and bold, he’s quiet and thoughtful.
“He’s like you,” Summer says.
“And Phoenix is like you.”
“God help us.”
Atlas colors quietly while Phoenix runs around screaming.
“How are they so different?” Summer asks.
“Genetics? Chaos? Who knows.”
“Should we have another?”
I look at her. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe. Eventually.”
“Let’s survive these two first.”
“Fair.”
SUMMER – TWELVE YEARS POST-EXPLOSION
Phoenix is six. Atlas is three.
Life is chaos. Beautiful chaos.
I’m at the gallery when my phone rings.
Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Summer? It’s Blake.”
I freeze.
Blake. Theo’s ex. The one who cheated on him.
“Blake. Hi. Why are you calling?”
“I heard you own a gallery. I’m an artist now. I was wondering if you’d look at my work.”
The audacity.
“Blake, I don’t think—”
“Please. Just look. If it’s not good, say so. But I’ve changed. I’m different now.”
I want to say no.
But I remember being her. Asking for second chances.
“Send me your portfolio. I’ll look.”
“Thank you. Really.”
We hang up.
I text Jax: Blake just called. Wants me to look at her art.
JAX: The cheating ex?
SUMMER: Yep.
JAX: What did you say?
SUMMER: I’d look.
JAX: You’re too nice.
Maybe.
Or maybe I know what it’s like to need forgiveness.
JAX – ONE WEEK LATER
Summer shows me Blake’s portfolio.
It’s… actually good.
“You’re going to feature her, aren’t you?”
“I think so. Her work is strong.”
“Theo’s going to hear about it.”
“Probably.”
“You okay with that?”
“Yeah. Blake and I are different people now. So is Theo. It’s been twelve years.”
She’s right.
Time heals.
If you let it.
SUMMER – BLAKE’S EXHIBITION
Three months later.
Blake’s work is featured. Small show. Group exhibition.
Theo shows up.
With Elena. And their daughter.
“Theo. Hi.”
“Summer. The exhibition looks great.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I support local artists. Even when they’re complicated.”
We both look at Blake across the room.
“She’s changed,” I say.
“People can. If they want to.”
“They can.”
We’re quiet.
Then Theo says, “You have kids now, right?”
“Two. Phoenix and Atlas. You?”
“One. Mia. She’s four.”
“Beautiful name.”
“Thanks.”
Elena approaches. Little girl on her hip.
“Summer, right? I’m Elena.”
“Nice to meet you officially.”
“Your gallery is wonderful.”
“Thank you.”
We chat briefly. Normal. Friendly.
Then they leave.
Jax finds me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. That was… nice. Closure.”
“Good closure?”
“The best kind.”
JAX – LATER THAT NIGHT
Summer and I are home.
Kids asleep. House quiet.
“Twelve years,” she says.
“Since everything exploded?”
“Yeah. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It was. We’re different people now.”
“Better people.”
“Much better.”
She curls into me.
“Do you ever regret it? The messy path we took?”
“Never. We needed that path.”
“We did.”
“Besides, if we hadn’t blown up, we wouldn’t have rebuilt. Better.”
“True.”
We sit in comfortable silence.
Our life. Our family. Our peace.
Hard-earned.
Worth every struggle.
SUMMER – PHOENIX TURNS SEVEN
She asks about my tattoo.
The phoenix on my shoulder. Matching Jax’s.
“What does it mean, Mama?”
“It means rising from ashes. Starting over. Being reborn.”
“Why do you have it?”
“Because Daddy and I had to start over once. And we did.”
“Why did you have to start over?”
“That’s a story for when you’re older.”
“How much older?”
“Much older.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair, baby.”
“Dad says that too.”
“Because it’s true.”
She huffs. Runs off to play.
Jax appears.
“What was that about?”
“She asked about the tattoos.”
“What did you say?”
“That it’s a story for when she’s older.”
“Like eighteen?”
“Like thirty.”
He laughs.
“Deal.”
JAX – THIRTEEN YEARS POST-EXPLOSION
We’re at Marco’s daughter’s quinceañera.
Big party. Family everywhere.
Phoenix and Atlas are dancing with their cousins.
Summer’s talking with Marco’s wife.
I’m watching our family.
Thinking about how far we’ve come.
From lies and betrayal to this.
To family. Community. Love.
Marco sits next to me.
“You good?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How lucky I am.”
“You are. But you also worked for it.”
“We both did.”
“Summer’s good for you.”
“She is.”
“And you’re good for her.”
“I hope so.”
“You are. Trust me.”
I do.
SUMMER – END OF CHAPTER
That night, in bed, Jax asks: “You happy?”
“Extremely. You?”
“More than I ever thought possible.”
“Even with all the chaos?”
“Especially with the chaos.”
I kiss him.
“I love our life.”
“Me too.”
Thirteen years from rock bottom to here.
To this.
To everything.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
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