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EPILOGUE: Clara
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2026-05-26 02:48:41
Romance AddictDear reader, we finally made it to the end of EYES OPEN ❤️ 144 chapters. Almost 154,000 words. Countless moments, twists, emotions, late nights, and memories along the way. Honestly, it still feels unreal that this journey is complete. Thank you for staying with me from the beginning to the very end. Every chapter you unlocked, every comment, every vote, and every Gem 💎 helped push this book forward and kept me motivated throughout this journey. Your support helped this book gain visibility, grow on the platform, and reach more readers, and I will always be grateful for that 🙏 Even though this story is now completed, your Gems 💎 and support still mean so much to me and continue helping this book grow. Thank you for believing in EYES OPEN and for being part of this journey with me, I am deeply grateful.❤️
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EYES OPEN EPILOGUE: Clara
She arrives on a Thursday.Not dramatically, not with a long complicated story... Just Thursday morning... early, the light coming through the east windows of the hospital room at the angle that makes everything look considered, and then she is here, small and specific and entirely herself, and the room changes shape around her the way rooms do when the right person arrives.Rhys holds her first.I watch him hold her.At some point I will write something adequate about watching the man I love hold our daughter for the first time but I do not have the words for it yet and I am not sure I ever will. It is one of those things that lives in the body rather than language, in the specific warmth of a moment you know you will return to for the rest of your life.She has his jaw.She has eyes that are too new to know yet.She has her own whole entire face."Clara," Rhys says quietly. To her specifically. Just her name, said to her directly, like a hello and a promise simultaneously.She looks
EYES OPEN Chapter 143: Spring
March arrives and everything changes shape again.The baby gets bigger. Not dramatically, not yet, but enough that the mornings are different and the evenings are different and the specific geography of the apartment begins to adjust itself around what is coming without anyone making formal announcements about it.Rhys builds a shelf.Not because we need a shelf, but because he needed to do something with his hands on a Saturday and a shelf was the most useful option and now there is a perfect shelf in the room we have started calling Clara's room and it is exactly the right height and the wood is warm and specific and particular.I stand in the doorway of Clara's room and look at the shelf."It is extraordinary," I say."It is a shelf," he points out."A perfect shelf," I add.He looks at it."Yes," he says, quietly satisfied. "It is."Signal Strategy has its best month.The Meridian retainer produces results that Gerard Foss presents to his board with the specific quiet pride of a ma
EYES OPEN Chapter 142: Felix
We ask him on a Sunday.Not formally. Not as a presentation or a prepared speech. We knock on his door, the four of us... Rhys and me and our baby and Arlo who considers himself essential to all important moments and is not wrong, and Felix opens it in his suit jacket and different pyjama bottoms and looks at us with the dark eyes going from my face to Rhys's face and reading something."Come in," he says.We come in.His apartment is exactly itself... books and music and the improbable plants thriving in the windows and the specific atmosphere of a space lived in by someone who is entirely at home inside themselves even when they are lonely.We sit.He makes coffee.Brings it to the table and sits across from us and wraps his hands around his cup and waits."We want to ask you something," Rhys says."Ask," Felix says."The baby," Rhys says. "She is a girl. We found out last week." He pauses. "We want to call her... Clara."The apartment goes completely still.Felix looks at his cup.
EYES OPEN Chapter 141: Honeymoon
We go to the coast.Not anywhere exotic. Not a long haul flight at twenty weeks pregnant. Just England in December, a small rented house on a cliff above the sea, the specific spare beauty of the English coast in winter when nobody else is there and the world is stripped back to its most honest version.Grey water.Pale light.The wind doing its indifferent coastal thing.Arlo on the beach below with his one white ear forward and his amber eyes doing the ambassador thing at seagulls who are not remotely intimidated.We are here for a week.The first two days we sleep.Not dramatically. Just fully... the sleep of two people who have been running toward something for a year and have arrived and the body decides now, now is when we rest.We wake late and eat things we do not cook very carefully and walk on the cliff in the afternoon light and come home when the wind gets too much and sit by the fire and read and talk and do not check our phones very often.Priya runs Signal Strategy for t
EYES OPEN Chapter 140: First Night
The room they put us in at the farmhouse has a window that faces east.Not deliberate. Just the room that was largest and quietest and had the best bed. But it faces east and in the morning there will be light and right now there is the dark and the cold outside and in here everything warm.We come in and close the door and stand in the room together in the specific still of two people who have just done something permanent and are inside the first moments of it.He looks at me.I look at him."Hello wife," he says quietly.Something turns over in my chest at that word."Hello husband," I say.He crosses to me and takes my face in both hands the way he has done since the beginning, since a hallway outside a hospital when I was falling apart, and looks at me in the low light with everything he is."Say it again," I say."Wife," he says.I pull him down and kiss him and he pulls me in and we stay like that for a long time, not rushed, not frantic, just the full weight of two people who
EYES OPEN Chapter 139: Reception
The reception is in the north wing.Tables and Bea's flowers, the garden roses in deep cream with the trailing greenery that argues back against the stone, and the December afternoon coming through the north windows at the angle that keeps people alert and alive the way I told Bea it would.Fifty people.The specific warmth of fifty people who were chosen, not assembled, in a room that was restored from something buried.Dot moves through the room with the quiet satisfaction of a woman whose four hundred and twelve weddings have not diminished her capacity to find the four hundred and thirteenth one remarkable."The dog," she says to me when she passes.Arlo is beside me in his bow tie.Not a real bow tie... Nora's idea, purchased specifically, velcroed to his collar, endured with the long-suffering dignity of an animal who knows this is not his finest hour but loves the people asking it of him."He has the best temperament," I tell her."He does," she says, and moves on.The evening f
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