Page 126 of Mirror Image

Now, as Doug and Terry Langston stare, spellbound, at the little girl that Sam and I share from beyond the bounds of this earth, I recognize that the rage I once held for them faded long ago—softened and reshaped by my newfound understanding of parenthood and the depthless well of love that comes with it. Julian stole that instinct, twisted it, and turned us all against one another.

But he’s gone now.

And still . . . we carry on.

Yet some nights, when the house goes quiet and Jocelyn’s breathing settles into that deep, even rhythm I adore, the questions slip in.

What happens if this facade ever cracks?

If she grows up needing answers I can’t give?

If someone looks too closely?

If I ever let myself fall in love and have to build a future on the fault line of a lie?

Terry looks up at me again, something dawning behind her eyes—a tiny recognition, or maybe just intuition. A seed planted.

A truth waiting to bloom.

She smiles—tentative, bewildered.

I smile back—hopeful, terrified.

Because somehow I know this:

I can keep the secret forever.

I can be Sam for the rest of my life.

I can shoulder it, bury it, breathe around it.

But I also know the weight of it will always keep me at arm’s length from every person I might ever love—except the two girls who made me who I am now: the one I lost and the one I’m raising.

And somewhere, in the quiet place where guilt and grace coexist, I already know how this story ends.