How Does 'Consider Me' End?

I just finished 'Consider Me' and that ending hit me harder than I expected. The protagonist finally confronts his buried trauma during a raw, emotional scene where he breaks down in front of his love interest. What starts as an argument transforms into this beautiful moment of vulnerability where he admits he's terrified of being unworthy of love. The love interest doesn't magically fix him—instead, they sit together in silence, just holding hands as he cries. The last chapter jumps forward six months to show them adopting a rescue dog together, with the protagonist wearing the love interest's hoodie while making breakfast. It's those small domestic details that sold me on their happy ending more than any grand gesture could have. The final line about 'choosing each other again today' perfectly captures the novel's theme of active, ongoing love rather than fairytale perfection.

Let me paint you the ending of 'consider me' through its sensory details—that's where the magic really lives. The final act opens with the scent of burning toast because the male lead is too distracted worrying he'll mess things up. The female lead finds him barefoot in her kitchen at 3AM, and instead of a dramatic confession, we get this quiet exchange about his childhood fear of thunderstorms. Their hands keep brushing while washing dishes later, soap bubbles popping between their fingers. Physical touch becomes their love language—no grand speeches, just her head resting against his chest during the credits scene.

The book's last quarter subverts expectations by avoiding some big external conflict. Instead, the tension comes from whether he'll attend therapy like promised. When he finally walks into that waiting room, it hit me harder than any breakup scene could. The epilogue shows them building a life through这些小细节—her paint stains on his shirts, his terrible singing in the shower, the way they now share a toothbrush holder. It's a masterclass in showing rather than telling love's evolution.

'Consider Me' delivers one of the most psychologically satisfying endings I've encountered. The resolution operates on three parallel levels that converge beautifully. On the romantic plotline, the couple overcomes their final obstacle when the male lead stops self-sabotaging and properly communicates for the first time. Their climactic reunion happens at the same dive bar where they first met, creating this fantastic narrative symmetry. The setting highlights how far they've grown—they're the same people, but fundamentally changed by their journey together.

The career subplot resolves with the female lead getting accepted into a prestigious art residency, but choosing a local program instead to prioritize the relationship. This decision could've felt regressive, but the writing frames it as empowerment—she's not sacrificing dreams, but actively designing her ideal life. The genius lies in how this mirrors the male lead's arc about control issues. Both learn balance isn't surrender.

Secondary characters get perfect send-offs too. The protagonist's estranged brother appears unexpectedly at their doorstep in the epilogue, hinting at reconciliation. The author leaves just enough unresolved to feel realistic while delivering catharsis where it counts. That closing shot of the couple dancing badly in their kitchen to 90s R&B? Chef's kiss.