The nurse told her the burns weren’t as bad as they looked; there would be a small scar near her temple, but it would be hidden by her hair. She told Elena she was a hero and that the county was offering her a prestigious position at the university hospital in the city.
Elena shook her head. She wasn’t going anywhere. She would stay in the area, find a small place, and raise her child on this land.
She realized that, in her own twisted way, Susan had ensured Elena and Andrew would never truly be apart. She had the child, and she had the memory.
Years later, Elena and her young son visited the cemetery. The boy was the image of his father—the same jawline, the same steady eyes.
No one in town asked questions. They had seen the way Elena worked, the way she cared for the community, and the way she looked at her son. They knew the truth without needing it spoken.
Life is a strange, unpredictable thing. You can spend twenty years with someone and realize you were strangers all along. Or you can have one month of perfect, stolen happiness that sustains you for a lifetime.
Elena looked at the headstone and smiled. Some things are worth the fire.
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