Chapter 43 – All the Ways I Begin Again
Mornings used to be her worst enemy.
They reminded Marissa of everything she'd lost, everything she couldn't fix. But this morning, she didn't wake up with her usual tight chest or the heavy silence pressing her lungs flat.
Instead, she woke to the gentle weight of Mason's hand on her waist. His breath was warm against the back of her neck, steady like a metronome guiding her out of chaos.
It was terrifying, how safe she felt. How used to him she was becoming.
And yet, she didn't want to fight it anymore.
For the first time in years, Marissa didn't climb out of bed like she was escaping something. She slipped out quietly, padded across the floor, and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the windows, letting the cool air rush in, chasing away the last shadows of the night.
She made coffee. For both of them.
Mason stumbled in a few minutes later, eyes half-closed, hair looking like he'd fought off a hurricane in his dreams.
"You look like a sleep-deprived Greek god," she said, placing a mug in front of him.
He cracked one eye open and grinned. "And you look dangerously close to falling in love with me."
She laughed. "Don't get cocky."
Too late. He was already walking around like he owned every piece of her she didn't yet know how to claim.
Later, she sat by the window, a notebook in her lap. Pages she used to fill with anger, bitterness, pain… were now filled with quiet thoughts. Small truths.
Like:
I'm learning that being loved gently doesn't mean I'm weak.
I'm allowed to heal without apologizing for how long it takes.
Some days, surviving is enough. Some days, beginning again is braver than pretending I'm fine.
Mason watched her from across the room, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You writing a novel over there?"
She looked up. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just writing myself back to life."
That night, Marissa took him somewhere she hadn't taken anyone in years her childhood home.
It was old and quiet, a little broken in places, but still standing. Like her.
They sat on the porch steps, watching the sun set over a field of overgrown weeds and wildflowers.
"I used to think this place was haunted," she said.
"Is it?"
She shook her head. "No. I was the one haunted."
Mason didn't say anything. He just took her hand, and that silence the one that used to torment her became something holy.
"I'm still scared," she whispered.
He squeezed her hand gently. "That's okay. You don't have to be fearless to be free."
She blinked hard. "Do you think it's really possible to start over? After all the ways we get broken?"
He turned to her, eyes serious. "Not only is it possible… it's sacred. Every time you choose to keep going, to open your heart again, to let someone in even when it hurts that's how you begin again."
Marissa stared at the field as the sun disappeared completely. And in the darkness, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding for years.
Maybe love wasn't something that came crashing in like a storm.
Maybe, sometimes, it was a quiet unfolding.
And maybe… she was finally ready.