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Blaise lies flat on his back in the grass, one arm thrown over his eyes, the pink dragon plush tucked into the crook of his other arm like it’s sacred. He looks like sin and serenity all wrapped up in sunlit freckles and old scars.

And me?

I’ve got my guitar across my lap. Fingers resting on worn strings. Voice waiting to rise.

I start to play.

It’s not one of the album songs. Not yet. This one’s just for me.

A slow, soft melody that traces our shape – every fractured beginning, every second chance. Every storm we outlasted. Every night spent in fear. Every morning full of light.

A song of found family. Of fierce, imperfect, beautiful love. Of the girl who survived it all…and stayed.

When I look up, they’re watching me.

No masks. No doubts.

Just three men who love me.

And me – finally letting them.

I don’t need to run.

I don’t need to hide.

I just close my eyes, let the music fill the space between us, and sing us home.

THE END… ALMOST