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Five minutes later, I’m walking down the red carpet, focusing on not crying because I feel like a fairy tale princess.
Instead of looking at the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, I glance at the guests.
Everyone’s here—family and friends. Even the Kostanidis cousins, Odin and Christos, came with their wives, Elina and Zoe.
"Mamaaa," Soraya calls, turning around and blowing a kiss. Silas immediately follows suit.
I blow a kiss back to each of them, and it seems that’s all the encouragement they need to abandon their "duties" and run toward me.
I hug them, and the guests laugh.
I bend down to kiss the tops of their heads, and when I stand back up, Athanasios is in front of me.
"What were the chances of them sticking to the plan until the end?" he asks, smiling. "Thanks, Dad. I’ll take it from here."
He crouches and picks up both of my children, one in each arm, while my father-in-law heads toward the altar, hand-in-hand with Joseph.
I, however, can’t move, still caught on his words.
I’ll take it from here.
"Hey," I call to him, and all three of them turn their attention to me. I walk closer and pull them into a hug. "I love you and adore your protective nature, but you don’t have to carry this responsibility alone. We’ll take care of each other. That’s what families are supposed to do."
Brooklyn
EPILOGUE ONE
Calisto Pappakouris is here
"He's beautiful," my mother-in-law says, looking at her grandson as if he were the first baby ever born. "The name you chose is perfect, Brooklyn. Calisto means ‘the most beautiful.’"
"I know. As soon as I saw it on the list of names, I knew it was the one I wanted."
My entire family came to visit me, but I asked Medeia to stay a little longer. I can’t give back everything she missed out on when Athanasios, just a few days old, was taken from her. But I can invite her to be part of her grandson’s life, to watch him grow, and perhaps, in doing so, help heal some of the wounds in her heart.
I’ve continued visiting Regina but not like before.
When my husband took me to see her for the first time, even without knowing who she was, I felt an instant affection for her, simply because she seemed important to Athanasios.
Everything changed when I discovered the truth. I can’t fake affection for someone to save my own life; the visits became more like visits to a stranger.
The same happened with Athanasios. He kept working on her case, studying her to try to understand why she wouldn’t wake from the coma, but I think it became just a clinical duty for him.
And then, about two weeks ago, she was gone.
No matter how much effort Athanasios put into it, she showed no signs of improvement. And I have a theory, not scientific at all but based on my own experience during the time I was unconscious: she didn’t want to come back.
In that dark place, a limbo caught between life and death, the tormented woman who had toyed with so many people’s fates finally found peace.
My husband reacted to her death as he would to that of any patient, but I don’t believe that, deep down, he processed it so simply. Still, I’ll never force him to talk about it. If he ever wants to open up, I’ll be there for him, but I won’t be the one to reopen the wound.
"I know what you’re doing, Brooklyn," my mother-in-law says, pulling me back to the present. "Thank you for giving me the chance to be a grandmother, since I couldn’t be a mother in the first years of my son’s life."
"You’ve already proven, by taking care of Soraya and Silas, that you have love inside you, Medeia. If I’d gone by my first impression, I would never have let you near any of them, but I believe in actions, and you’ve shown me that you’re a wonderful grandmother. You’ll always be welcome in our home."
The door opens, and she looks back. It’s Athanasios, his attentive eyes on the three of us, always looking after everyone.
My mother-in-law places Calisto in his father’s arms, and after my husband kisses her forehead, she says her goodbyes.