Chapter 10 - The Chapter That LastsYears later, when people asked about the infamous wedding where a six-year-old brought down a tech empire with a single sentence, the tabloids called it the scandal of the decade.
In our house, it was just the day the air finally cleared.
We didn't look back at the grand hotels or the crystal chandeliers with bitterness. Those were chapters written by someone else—someone who cared more about reflections in glass than the warmth of real life.
On a warm autumn afternoon, Ethan and I walked along the Seattle waterfront, watching the ferries glide across the deep blue water of Elliott Bay. The air was crisp and smelled of salt and roasted almonds from a nearby cart.
Ethan, now a tall, confident ten-year-old with a quick smile and an unwavering sense of justice, stopped by the railing and pointed out toward the horizon.
"Mom, look. The sky is purple."
I shaded my eyes against the golden afternoon light, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.
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"It really is, sweetheart," I said, smiling as I watched the gulls wheeling gracefully above the waves.
I looked down at my son, knowing that whatever chapters came next in our lives, we were writing them together. And this time, every single page was real.
