Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven: The Goodbye
Ethan died on a sunny Tuesday in October.
He was one hundred and eight years old. He had lived a long life—a life full of love and loss, of waiting and hoping, of never giving up. He had been the man who waited. The man who never stopped loving. The man who stood by Lina through the darkest moments of her life, through the coma that stole her memories, through the trial that exposed the truth about her family, through the years of rebuilding and healing.
He died peacefully, in his sleep, in the bed where he had slept for over eighty years. The same bed where he had held Lina on their wedding night, where they had celebrated their anniversaries, where they had made love and made children and made a life together.
Lina found him there.
She had brought him his morning tea, as she did every day. A cup of Earl Grey, with a splash of milk and one sugar—just the way he liked it. She walked into the bedroom, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet, the morning light filtering through the curtains.
Ethan was lying in bed, his eyes closed, his hands folded over his chest. He looked peaceful. He looked like he was sleeping.
But Lina knew.
She set the teacup on the nightstand, next to the photograph of the two of them on their wedding day. They were so young then, so full of hope, so unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. She looked at the photograph and remembered the way he had looked at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world.
She sat on the edge of the bed. She took his hand.
"Ethan," she said. "Can you hear me?"
Ethan did not answer.
Lina's eyes filled with tears. "You waited for me," she said. "When I woke up from that coma, you were there. You never gave up on me. You never stopped loving me."
She squeezed his hand. His fingers were cold.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being my husband. Thank you for being the father of my children. Thank you for being my home."
She sat beside him for a long time, holding his hand, remembering.
She remembered the first time she had seen him, at that charity gala, so many years ago. She was wearing the green dress, the one that made her feel powerful. He was wearing a black tuxedo, his gray eyes bright, his smile warm. He had asked her to dance, and she had said yes.
She remembered the night he had proposed, down on one knee, the ring trembling in his fingers. She remembered the way he had looked at her, like she was the only woman in the world.
She remembered their wedding day, in that small courthouse, the twins throwing flower petals at their feet. She remembered the way he had cried when he saw her in her cream-colored dress.
She remembered the vow renewal, years later, in the garden, surrounded by flowers and fairy lights and the people they loved. She remembered the way he had looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.
She remembered the years that followed. The joy of watching their children grow. The grief of losing people they loved. The quiet, steady work of building a life together.
She remembered the way he had held her hand during the trial, when she was afraid. The way he had held her during the nights when the nightmares came. The way he had held her when she cried.
She remembered the way he had looked at her on their last anniversary, his eyes still bright, his smile still warm.
"I love you," she said. "I've always loved you. I will always love you."
She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
Then she stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the garden.
The flowers were blooming. The birds were singing. The sun was rising over the city.
Ethan was gone.
But he was not forgotten.
---
The family gathered.
The penthouse was filled with people. Every generation was there, from the oldest to the youngest. David and his half-siblings, in their nineties, sat on the couch, their faces pale, their eyes red. Lily and Jake held each other, their shoulders shaking with sobs. Leo and Maya sat close together, their hands intertwined, their faces wet with tears.
Grace and her family were there. Stella and her family. Clara and her family. Samuel and his family. Eleanor and Thomas and Victoria. Aurora and her husband. Melody and her partner. Hope and her fiancé. And baby Stella, who was four years old now, with curly hair and a gap-toothed smile.
They cried. They remembered. They celebrated.
"He was a good man," Lily said.
Lina nodded. "He was."
"He never gave up on you."
Lina's eyes filled with tears. "No. He never did."
---
The funeral was held in the garden.
Ethan's favorite place. The place where he had sat and watched the stars. The place where he had taught their grandchildren about constellations and black holes and the infinite beauty of the universe. The place where he had held Lina's hand and watched the sunrise every morning for over eighty years.
Lina stood at the front, her family around her. The sun was warm, the flowers were blooming, the birds were singing. It was the kind of day Ethan would have loved.
"Ethan was not a perfect man," she said. "He made mistakes. He had doubts. He was afraid. But he never gave up. He never stopped loving."
She looked at the garden.
"He taught me that love is a choice. That you can wake up every morning and choose to love someone, even when it's hard. Even when they've forgotten you. Even when they can't remember your name."
She looked at her family.
"He gave me a family. He gave all of us a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a great-great-grandfather, a great-great-great-grandfather, a great-great-great-great-grandfather, a great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, a great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, and a great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather."
She looked up at the sky.
"He gave me a life."
She raised her glass.
"To Ethan," she said.
"To Ethan," everyone echoed.
---
Lina sat on the bench in the garden, Ethan's favorite spot.
She closed her eyes.
She could almost see him sitting beside her, his gray eyes bright, his smile warm.
"I miss you," she whispered.
The wind blew through the garden.
Lina smiled.
She knew Ethan was listening.
---
That night, Lina sat on the couch alone.
The penthouse was quiet. The family was gone. Ethan was gone.
She looked at the empty space beside her, where he used to sit. She could almost feel his presence, almost hear his voice.
"How do you feel?" he would have asked.
"Empty," she would have said. "Not in a bad way. Just... empty. Like I've been carrying something for so long that I forgot what it felt like to put it down."
"That's called grief," he would have said.
"Is that what this is?"
"I think so."
She would have leaned into him, and he would have put his arm around her.
"I'm going to miss you," she would have said.
He would have kissed her forehead.
"So am I," he would have said.
But he was not there.
Lina sat in the darkness, holding herself, while the city hummed outside the window.
---
The next morning, Lina woke up early.
She walked to the garden and sat on Ethan's bench.
The sun was rising over the city, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and gold. The birds were singing. The flowers were blooming.
Lina closed her eyes.
She thought about her husband.
She thought about all the years they had spent together. The joy. The grief. The love.
She thought about the day they had met, the day they had married, the day they had renewed their vows.
She thought about the way he had looked at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world.
She opened her eyes.
"I'll see you again someday," she whispered.
The wind blew through the garden.
Lina smiled.
She knew Ethan was waiting.
---
End of Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven