This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

A happy ending

A/N: First of all, I would like to apologize for updating so late. My laptop's Windows crashed, and I had to get it reset. Unfortunately, I lost all my data, including my fics, drafts, and future ideas. This was incredibly disheartening, and I felt so depressed that I considered giving up writing altogether. However, writing is my passion, and I can't let one setback stop me. So, here is the last chapter. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, I have been adapting this fic for a long time. It was inspired by my favorite book, and I'm sure you know it by the name Against All Odds. I put a lot of effort into it and I will be posting it soon. I will have to start from scratch, but I love it so much and I want to share it with you guys.

1 year later

The therapist's office enveloped Sam in a calm, muted embrace, the soft hues of the room offering a semblance of solace amidst the storm raging within her. She perched on the edge of the chair, her gaze fixated on the carpet's intricate patterns, a tapestry mirroring the complexities of her own thoughts.

"Can you tell me, Sam," the therapist's gentle voice broke through the silence, "What led to that moment of weakness?"

A hesitant pause lingered, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Sam wrestled with her inner turmoil, a maelstrom of emotions churning beneath the surface. Memories of loss, regret, and misplaced guilt surged within her, seeking release.

"My grandmother's passing... it changed everything," Sam's voice quivered with a mix of regret and sorrow. "I felt like I let her down by not heeding her advice, by choosing to marry Mon."

The therapist nodded, offering a comforting space for Sam to unravel the tangled strands of her narrative.

"I started distancing myself from Mon, believing it was what I needed to do," Sam confessed, her voice betraying the weight of her emotions. "But it was wrong. I remember hearing her cry at night, even seeing the signs of her distress. It was like a part of me enjoyed that someone cared about me that much."

She sighed, her fingers fidgeting with a stray thread on her shirt. "When Nita came onto me, I didn't think about Mon. I didn't think about anything except... escaping. I'm so embarrassed I didn't."

The therapist offered a compassionate look, understanding the complexities underlying Sam's actions. "And how do you feel now?"

Sam's gaze lifted, meeting the therapist's eyes. "I'm trying to change. I'm seeking help, reflecting on my mistakes, and I want to be a better person. Even if it means Mon and I can't be together, I owe it to her and Hope."

The therapist's inquiry hung in the air, a gentle yet probing question that pierced through the layers of Sam's vulnerability. Her eyes fixated on the carpet's intricate design, a mosaic of thoughts and emotions swirling within her.

"Sam," the therapist's voice carried an empathetic tone, "When you expressed the desire to reconcile with your wife, were your intentions genuine, or were they solely for the sake of your child?"