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I sigh. “That’s the plan.”

We head toward the clearing where I know Julie will be. Where she always goes when she thinks too hard or hurts too deep.

And I carry the weight of this moment like it’s sacred.

Because it is.

Julie’s standing at the edge of the glade, facing the trees like they hold the answers I’ve never been brave enough to say out loud. Her bag’s slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing that worn camp sweatshirt I know she loves, the one with the fraying cuffs and the glitter Lillian smeared across the hem.

She turns when she hears us. Her expression flickers: hope, pain, resignation, all battling for control.

“You came to say goodbye?” she asks, voice quiet, even.

“No,” I say. “I came to ask you to stay.”

I step forward, slow, every movement deliberate. Lillian’s hand is in mine. I feel her squeezing it, like she’s pouring courage into my veins.

“I thought you made your decision,” Julie says, arms crossed tight.

“I didn’t,” I reply. “I just didn’t say what I should have. Because I’m stubborn. And I’ve already lost too much to know how to ask for more.”

Her eyes glisten. “You think this is easy for me?”

“No,” I say. “I know it’s not. That’s why I’m here now. Doing the hard thing.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the box. It’s plain, no velvet, no gold. Just dark wood and iron hinges. I made it myself, a week ago, when I realized what I couldn’t let go of.

I drop to one knee.

Julie gasps.

Lillian lets go of my hand and stands proudly beside me.

“Julie Wren,” I say, throat tight. “You walked into my world like a storm. And somehow, instead of tearing things down, you built something stronger.”

I open the box. The ring glints, simple and solid.

“You make me better. You makeusbetter.”

Lillian nods, grinning wide.

“I’m not good at this,” I continue, “but I want you to stay. As my partner. As my equal. As Lillian’s… everything. As mine.”

Julie’s already crying. She covers her mouth with both hands, shaking.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” I say, heart pounding. “I just needed you to know—if you want to stay, this is your home. We’re your family.”

She drops her bag.

Falls to her knees.

And throws her arms around both of us.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Lillian squeals. I bury my face in Julie’s neck, breathing her in like it’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to hope.

And just like that… we’re not alone anymore.