Kiss me if you dare [ENGLISH]

Epilogue

It had started to clear up to sunshine as she walked down the cobblestone staircase. 'Challenging' was an understatement. She had subjected herself to the same cumbersome passage more than thirty times in the past few months and had come close to tripping in many cracks and depressions.

It was still hard to grasp the fact that she hadn't been convicted of the murder. Instead, they had insisted she undergo therapy for the hallucinations and her nervous condition. She had suspicions that her friend had influenced the court's decision, even if she hadn't confirmed it. He had testified that she had been manipulated, coerced into shooting, and sounded convincing.

They had met a few times since. Despite her inability to trust people and form new relationships, she knew where to start, and he truly deserved an apology.

She wasn't entirely comfortable with the scheduled sessions yet. The therapist didn't seem particularly engaged in their job, but they had helped. The assassin's apparition didn't appear as often as before, and the sleeping pills at least provided some kind of peace in the evenings.

The apartment was sold—a closed chapter. There had been a lot of discussion about leaving the place that held memories. Moving away from Thornhills had also been on the table, but she became extremely stressed in new environments.

Now she lived in an older condominium in the city—not far from the mall. It held only the absolute essentials. It had been difficult, though, to throw away and sort out the things that smelled like him, but also liberating. Deep down, she knew she had to move on. Her father's grave, however, was regularly visited and well-maintained, with red roses blooming among the thoughtful offerings of residents.

The neighbors in the building were at least friendly and thankfully had no idea of what she had been through. The couple on the floor above had already invited her over for tea, and it had been painful to decline.

The murders in the UK had decreased rapidly after the unexpected visit, but no one talked about it. The news continued its regular coverage, reporting on yet another political scandal or the weather forecast. It could get quite tiresome at times. On the other hand, drama was the last thing she needed.

A van stopped outside the entrance, and she presumed they were there to fix the electricity that had caused significant trouble in recent days. In passing, she took the opportunity to open the mailbox, even though it was always empty. It had become a routine—a detail she omitted from anyone who asked. They had asked about her, even if it happened less and less frequently. How often she thought about it, looked back, and hoped, was a forbidden territory. Therefore, she did her best to push the destructive thoughts aside and return to her life before the tragic event.

But when the bottom of the box was not as smooth as it used to be but rough like cardboard, she couldn't hold back any longer. Her arm searched for the small sheet of paper as if a child were reaching for the candy bowl on the top shelf.

Her name was beautifully written in ink, but there was no stamp and no sender. Was it a mistake? Did someone send the wrong thing? But in the shifting sunlight from the glass door, it magically sparkled.

The little ornament had not lost its luster yet. The diamonds were polished and as wonderful as she remembered them.

Fleur couldn't help but smile as she slid the ring onto her finger.