Chapter 42: Epilogue

[written in present tense unlike the rest of the book]

-

Eva stares at the cream coloured business card in her hands, with the familiar rose borders.

Millie's Family Bakery it reads in an elegant script.

She stares at it for a few seconds, still unable to believe that she's standing here, and then composes herself – before walking out the packaging room in the back and towards the customer waiting by the counter.

"Here you go," Eva smiles at the young woman. "You can place your orders if you contact the hotline on the card. We can either deliver it to you – or you can come collect it on your way home."

The woman glances down at the card, and Eva takes that moment to blink away the sudden moisture in her eyes. It's been two whole years and she can't believe there was a time when she was given an identical card for a job opportunity – and here she is now, giving out those same cards to customers.

"Thank you," the customer shoots Eva a smile. "I'm sorry I had to bring you out from the back – especially when I know you must be so busy baking one item after another." The woman's smile turns apologetic. "But when I asked the cashier for the person responsible for making the best cottage pie I've tasted my entire life – well, I had to insist on appreciating your work in person."

Eva's cheeks grow warm and she averts her eyes, still not used to being told people actually like what she does. That people actually like her. This is all probably going to be ripped away from her one day – it's too good to last.

She's thirty now – and while the last two years have been filled with therapist appointments, healing, and progress, she still has an incredibly long way to go. Because as much as she wishes for it, two years don't quite make up for twenty-eight ones of trauma and suffering.

"So you guys cater, right?" The woman inquires as she tucks the card into her purse. "Like, if I wanted to contact this bakery for my parents' coming anniversary – you'll do it?"

"Sure," Eva nods, "we cater to all kinds of events. Just notify us two weeks prior to the date of the event."

The customer nods, and backs away from the counter. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Eva murmurs, watching the woman walk out the bakery. And thank you, she says in her head to Millie Morgan, without whom Eva might not be standing here today.

"Interacting with the customers again?" Millie's familiar voice reaches Eva's ears just as she steps into the oven room.

Eva smiles guiltily and heads toward the familiar woman, to someone who's become a friend and moral support over the months. "I can't help it when they ask for me," she admits with a laugh.

"Don't be sorry about it," Millie snorts, "I know that's your second favourite part about being here."

Eva shrugs, the small smile never leaving her lips. Of course meeting the people who consume her food is the next best thing to baking. There's something so satisfying about hearing them tell Eva how much wonder she is able to make with just her ordinary pair of hands.

It makes Eva believe she creates magic – hell, it makes Eva believe in herself. And that's something she has never, ever had.

After all, faith is something she needed to learn on her own – it isn't something that could've been taught to her.

"Are you and Lily still in for dinner at mine and Noah's tonight?" Millie asks, talking about the dinner plans with her and her husband tonight.

"Of course," Eva nods, genuinely looking forward to spending some time with the Morgans.

Besides, Noah Morgan adores Lillian. He's somewhat unintentionally taken on the role of favourite uncle, not that Eva is complaining – it always feels nice to watch her daughter receive warmth and love from anyone other than Eva herself.

Eva remembers the first time she stepped into the Morgans' home, feeling uncomfortable and weird and singled out. But then she saw a large family portrait hanging by the wall in the living room and asked about the woman standing beside Mille in the picture. They looked identical – and Eva soon learnt they were in fact twins.

Eva made the mistake of asking Millie where her sister was, and then heard the story of how the woman had gotten involved with a violent man. Unlike Eva, who made it out, Millie's twin sister ended up being killed in her husband's fit of rage.

It was then that Eva realised why Millie was quick to figure out something was so horribly wrong in Eva's life – because she must have seen the signs. Of course they must have been very subtle, very concealed signs. But once that part of the world has touched someone, it became hard to not be able to notice it. And Millie noticed, that day two years back.

After that, Eva somehow never felt strange and imposing in their home.

The alarm going off in Eva's phone snaps her out of her thought stream and she reaches inside her flour-dusted pocket to turn it off.

"Time to go pick up Lillian from school?" Millie asks, a fondness seeping into her eyes.

"Yeah," Eve mutters, running her thumb against the wallpaper of her phone's screen, where Lillian's smile stares up at her. Butter from her finger stains the screen, but Eva doesn't care.

She smiles down at the image of her seven year old, and then shuts the screen off.

---

Every Saturday afternoon, Eva takes a break of thirty minutes and heads down to a coffee shop two blocks away for a slice of blueberry cheesecake.

Of course Millie's Bakery makes them too – but there's something about eating from a source that she doesn't have a hand in. Maybe it's just in Eva's head, but there's a small pleasure in enjoying the culinary skills of another person rather than focusing only on her own.

Every Saturday morning, all through the afternoon, Lillian's kept busy with practices at the local kids' soccer club – and by the time she's done with them, Eva will have thrown in her apron for the day at Millie's and be on her way to take Lillian home.

Her hours are flexible like that, when working under someone like Millie.

Eva was initially surprised when Lillian told her of her interest in the sport – but didn't see any reason why her daughter couldn't start investing her energy into it. And before long, Noah Morgan helped enrol Lillian into the club.

Eva spots her usual seat at the cafe and settles down in her seat, smiling when the rich aroma of coffee and cinnamon tickle her nostrils. She always cherishes these thirty minutes away from work – at first she felt a little guilty being away from Lillian, but soon came to understand that her child isn't being neglected but doing something she loves too. Enjoying her break became easier after that.

And so she finds herself here every single Saturday afternoon – and just like every single Saturday afternoon, she has company today too.

"Hi," Terrence greets as he reaches Eva and then drops into the chair across hers. "How are you always here before me?"

Eva's lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. "Because I take a taxi," she tells him with a shake of her head.

Public transports unsettled Eva. There's something about the large throngs of people, the way they press too closely against each other, that scare her a little bit. It seems silly, and most times Eva is ashamed to admit it, but she can't bring herself to use them to travel.

Sometimes even interacting with a customer feels like too much work – and Eva might end up curled up in her bed during the night, tears running down her face for no reason, and wishing she can just board up all the windows and the doors and never have to leave her new apartment.

Coming in contact with too many new faces always overwhelmed her, and most of the time, it never ended well for her. It's especially worse when it happens to be a guy who comes off a little too strong and bold, even though he may be an entirely good person. But Eva's reactions aren't to be reasoned with – and she's glad people like Millie and Terrence understand that.

"Ah," Terrence clicks his tongue, "right. That slipped my mind."

"Yeah," Eva mutters and looks down, piercing the slice of dessert with her fork, but the motions appear distracted. "Maybe..." Se glances at Terrence, "maybe I should learn to go in –"

"You have all the time in the world, Eva," he tells her gently, pale blue eyes smiling at her. Terrence's hands come to rest on the table and Eva instinctively pulls her one away. It's not that he was about to touch her – but the close contact makes her react without intending to.

"Sorry," she says, wanting to kick herself. "I'm so sorry – I just –"

"Stop it," Terrence frowns, that thin mask of anger slipping over his face. Not anger at Eva, she's come to realise over the several months – but anger on behalf of her, for her. "You've got nothing to apologise for, Eva."

"I..." Eva bites her lip. "Okay."

His eyes soften again, and he simply shakes his head, leaning back in his chair as one hand of his begins to trace patterns on the table.

Eva watches that hand, wonders what it'll feel like if her fingers are to trace the veins on his wrist. She feels a pull in her chest, and averts her gaze.

He'll probably feel warm, she thinks. And the thought creates the tiniest of flutters in her chest.

"He made me feel like so many things were my fault," Eva finds herself telling Terrence out of the blue, her fingers playing with the fork carrying a chunk of cheesecake. "I was always apologising for something or the other."

Terrence's expression is unreadable, but his eyes never leave Eva's. "The only thing you need to apologise for," he says softly, leaning towards Eva, "is not paying this slice of cake the attention it deserves." He cracks a smile and gently tugs the fork out of Eva's grip, taking it between his own fingers and bringing it to Eva's mouth. "Come on, open up."

Eva's chest feels uncomfortable, and the fluttery feeling increases. She glances at the fork hovering in front of her, then meets the pair of pale blue eyes and slowly brings her head forward, parting her lips and closing them around the piece of cake.

Terrence pulls the fork out her mouth with care and then slips it back into her hand, his fingers brushing against hers for a lingering moment before he withdraws his hand.

Eva smiles and slowly chews, letting her eyes sweep over the place to avoid looking at him. She doesn't know why it's been like this between them for the past year. A brush of their hands here, a touch on the waist there. Some occasions, Terrence sat too close with his leg skimming the side of her own – sometimes it's him standing right behind her, only a sliver of space between his chest and her back.

It's like he's trying to tell her something, but wants to be careful around her at the same time.

Maybe he thinks Eva will take off running. Maybe he thinks Eva will cut him out of her life again.

Doesn't he know by now she never will? He's Terrence Walker, her very first friend. The boy who cared about her when she didn't even understand what friendship was.

"Sorry," Terrence suddenly says, and Eva's eyes snap to his in confusion. "That was too forward of me."

"What?"

"That," he nods towards the fork in Eva's hand, "I'm guessing I shouldn't have done it."

Eva's heart jumped. "Why?"

Terrence stops drawing patterns on the table and tilts his head at her. "I must have... Well, me doing that must have made you uncomfortable."

"Yes," Eva answers slowly, "it was."

Terrence winces slightly, but Eva catches it. A slight colouring spreads over his cheeks.

"In a good way," Eva continues, feeling her heartbeats pick up speed.

Terrence snaps his head up to meet her eyes. "What?"

Eva falls silent for a while, not sure if she wants to say this. "You made me feel uncomfortable, but in a good way," she eventually says, feeling her face grow hot. "You know, like explosions in the chest and all."

At first, Terrence looks stunned and at a loss for words. And then, his lips begin lifting at the corners. "Yeah?" He murmurs, slowly pushing his hand along the surface of the table, and then stopping near her plate, not taking hers in his grasp. "You've been making me feel that way for longer than you know."

Eva hesitates and then slowly inches her own hand towards his, meeting his fingers with her own and allowing them to graze his skin ever so softly. Why does this feel so nice? This is such a new kind of nice.

"How..." She swallows, "how long?" She lets her palm close over his, feeling the heat that seeps from his skin into her own. "How long have you felt... like that?"

Terrence turns his hand upside down, so that Eva's palm is in direct contact with the inside of his. She begins trailing her index finger along all the lines running into each other on his palm.

"The first time I felt it was back in junior year of highschool," he murmurs, and Eva can feel his eyes on her but she focuses on his hand, on how he feels.

"I know that," she smiles, "you told me I was your first, no, second crush."

"Yeah," Terrence chuckles and Eva feels his hand shake with the gesture. When she drags her thumb down his wrist, running over the veins there, he doesn't pull away. He simply allows her to feel his skin, to explore the warmth of his arm. "But I think it just never really went away, I guess. Or maybe it did, but then seeing you again brought old feelings back – I don't know." He shrugs, and Eva hears him release a sigh. "All I know is that I feel. And that I feel quite a lot."

Eva stops tracing her fingers along his skin and glances up at him, a worried look on her face. "Was I the reason your relationship fell apart?" She asks, beginning to pull her hand away. "I didn't want to be the cause of –"

"Nothing," Terrence says firmly, reaching out and taking a hold of her fingers before she can hide her hand away. "You caused nothing, Eva. Sometimes things just don't work out. It wasn't your fault."

Eva breathes in relief and feels Terrence intertwine their fingers together – slowly, delicately.

His eyes never leave hers.

"Are you scared?" He asks quietly.

Eva looks at him for a long while and then shakes her head. "Not of you," she tells him honestly.

Despite the horror with Tristan, with Logan, with Vincent – Eva has come to realise she never really learnt to generalise all men as violent and abusive.

And it didn't take long for her to realise why. Because even though she was stuck in a toxic cycle back then, she also knew good men. Exceptionally good, kind men. She knew Benjie, her childhood chauffeur. She knew Mr Quinn, her junior year English teacher. And she knew Terrence, her oldest friend.

Eva was unfortunate enough to grow up with men who broke her – but she was also fortunate enough to have known men who helped her, who believed in her, who helped her believe in her own self. She was fortunate enough for Logan and Vincent not being the only kind of people she has known.

"Good," Terrence says to her, "that's good to hear." He brings her fingers to his lips and brushes them against his mouth in a barely-there kind of kiss. "And you can set the pace for this, Eva." He gestures to the space between them, "I will never ask for more than you have to give."

"What if it takes a long time for me to give you everything?" Eva's voice trembles and she looks down, but Terrence's other hand take a soft hold of her chin and he tilts her head to meet his gaze.

"It always takes time for someone to give their everything to another person," he tells her. "With you, it'll just be going at a slower pace than most couples." He shoots her a smile and squeezes her chin. "And if there's anything I have an abundance of, it's patience."

"What if..." She drops her voice to a whisper. "What if I do something wrong?"

"Then I'll tell you, and we'll work through it," he responds, releasing her chin and instead brushing strands of hair away from her face. "And when I do something wrong, you can tell me and we'll work through that too." He stops messing with her hair and cups one side of her face, "Okay?"

Eva stares into his eyes, pale blue like the summer skies and beaches she used to dream about during her worst moments.

"Okay," she tells him. And when Eva smiles then, she feels something she hasn't in a long while – she feels peace.

Because she is now Evelyn Monroe, the mother of Lillian Dyer, one of the main bakers at a leading bakery chain, and a free woman who's still learning to break the shackles of a horrible past.

She is all of these and so much more – Evelyn Monroe will always be more than just the girl who was left behind, than just the girl that Care forgot.

× × × × ×

wow, it's really the end. a little more than three years and here i am, finally at the end of this precious book. ((Also it was fun watching y'all think i was sinking the ship, lmao NO))

this hasn't been the easiest story to write -- and read, either, im sure. so thank you for sticking till the end. I've taken down the book several times when it got too overwhelming, and then posted it back when i was confident i could get back into Eva's shoes -- only for me to take it down again. y'all really put up with a lot.

one thing i really want to thank the lot of you for is the zero victim blaming. THANK YOU. i have an amazing reader base. thank you for none of the unnecessary questions like "but why didn't she just do this?" or insensitive statements like "she should be stronger than this"  y'all did good ❤ im so proud :')

Eva's journey has been one hell of a ride -- i guess one thing i really wanted to show through her is that it's okay if you don't love yourself yet. you don't have to wait till you can love yourself in order to get out of a bad situation - you can use anything else to ground you, to guide you. and that's perfectly okay. because your health & survival should always come before loving yourself. and in Eva's case, she needed to act before it was too late. and if she'd waited to do it for herself, it'd have been too late. rather, she chose to do it for her kid - and that doesn't make her victory any less amazing than someone who gets out of a toxic relationship for themselves.

any reason is reason enough. whatever you think is strong enough to get you to a better place, hold on to it. it doesn't belittle your victories.

if this is where your journey with me ends, good bye and a massive thank you ❤

and to the others, see you in another book xx