Ares would probably scold me if he saw me doing this. He’d furrow his brows, raise an irritated eyebrow, and say sharply,
“Stop doing that, Andrew. You’re thinking too much.”
And he’d be right.
I blow out a deep breath.
It’s time to join him.
EPILOGUE
ARÈS
I’ve rarely felt this kind of nervousness.
In a few minutes, Andrew will walk into this church and join me. In a few minutes, we’ll bind our lives, our destinies.
And yet, I feel like my heart is beating too hard, too fast. A strange pressure settles in my chest, as if my body itself struggles to grasp what’s happening.
I don’t remember feeling this way the first time.
My marriage to William was different. I loved him, of course. Maybe even still do, in some way. But back then, everything seemed ordinary, unremarkable. I was younger, more carefree, or maybe just more foolish.
Today, it’s something else.
I fully realize what it means.
It’s a bit like a tattoo.
An ink carved beneath the skin, an indelible mark that withstands time. A tattoo isn’t just about looks — it’s a commitment. A choice made knowing it will be there forever. There’s some pain, inevitably. The needle pricks, bites the flesh, leaves a mark that never truly fades. But in the end, only the beauty of the design remains, the meaning we give it, the story it tells.
And Andrew…
Andrew is the ink that marks me deeper than any needle ever could.
He’s this artwork I didn’t draw, but that imprinted itself on me anyway. An indelible trace on my soul, my body, my days and nights. He carved his existence into mine, and I can’t — and don’t want to — erase it.
And today, I’m going to seal that mark forever.
I glance at the guests and smile.
Kiran is there, sitting in the front row, true to himself, his eyes sparkling with contained mischief. He’s always supported me, sometimes even against my will. Today is no exception.
My gaze shifts to Robert.
A few years ago, I never thought he’d attend my wedding. Probably neither did he. But despite everything, despite his mistakes and faults, he has always been part of Andrew’s story. Ours. He hasn’t always made the right choices, but deep down, he wanted to do good. And today, he’s here. Maybe to make amends. Maybe simply because he cares, in his own way.
And then, there’s them.
I wasn’t sure they’d come. I wasn’t even sure Andrew would let me contact them. But they’re here.
His family.
They crossed miles to be here today. I wonder what they feel seeing Andrew after all this time. If they understand the man he’s become. If they grasp everything he’s been through.
A few of my cousins are here too. Voices from the past, childhood memories I sometimes tried to forget, but that now naturally belong in this moment.
The pianist starts to play. The air immediately feels more electric.