Elizabeth smiled, eyes bright. "I’d like that very much."
Darcy exhaled, and for the first time in weeks, Elizabeth smiled so widely it made her stomach flutter.
They stood there a moment longer, the wind soft in the trees, the sun painting everything gold.
And in that stillness, something new began.
EPILOGUE
ELIZABETH RETURNEDto New York two weeks after Mr. Darcy’s visit. Their official first date, as Darcy mentioned, was at a charming little café tucked between two bookstores in Shelburne.
It wasn’t extravagant. Just two perfectly brewed coffees, a shared slice of something warm and cinnamon-sweet, and conversation that melted between them like honey. The pauses weren’t awkward—they were golden. The kind of quiet that tasted like comfort.
It was simple, but also splendid. Delicious in every sense of the word. And in the way he looked at her, like she wasn’t just someone he liked but someone he knew, Elizabeth realised that this wasn’t the start of something new. It was the return to something that had always been waiting.
Before she packed, she re-downloaded the TrueNorth app. It felt like the right thing to do—quiet, small, but right. Less than a minute after she sent a message, Darcy replied.
“No aliases this time. Just Fitzwilliam. Glad you’re back.”
And from then on, it was theirs. Their quiet little thread.
They didn’t rush it. Between her articles and his travels, they found time for each other. They kept choosing each other—text by text, call by call, date by date.
Five months later, the news broke: George Wickham had been arrested in Mexico for fraud. Multiple counts. Multiple victims. A trail of fake profiles, scammed women, and stolen money. Elizabeth didn’t have to say “I told you so.” But she did write the follow-up that gave her so much Joy. More women reached out to her after the piece went live. This time, she didn’t write for closure. She wrote for them.
And Darcy? He never once asked her not to.
By autumn, Georgiana turned eighteen. She and Elizabeth launched her first public social media post together—a soft-lit photo of a keyboard, a cup of tea, and the caption:
“Start where you are. Grow loud later.”
Georgiana didn’t just post again. She blossomed. Elizabeth became the older sister she hadn’t known she needed, and Georgiana became the quiet joy Elizabeth never saw coming.
Jane and Bingley moved into a Brooklyn brownstone near the park. He proposed under fairy lights with their families present. Jane said yes before he finished the question.
Elizabeth stood beside her on their wedding day, holding back tears and wondering if maybe—just maybe—fairy tales could look like this.
One golden July afternoon the following year, Darcy asked Elizabeth to take a walk.
Not an extravagant setup. Just the two of them, an old bench under a shady tree, and a small velvet box that was sitting gracefully on it.
“I know we joke about algorithms and destiny,” he said, “but I don’t want to leave this to data anymore.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Are you—?”
He opened the box. It was a simple diamond ring. “I’m asking because I want to spend the rest of my life with the personwho challenged me, changed me, and still decided to stay. Will you marry me, Elizabeth Bennet?”
She didn’t cry. Not then. She laughed, bright and disbelieving and impossibly happy.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, you ridiculous man. Of course I will.”
And in that moment, it wasn’t about algorithms or articles or even apologies.
It was about them.
Two people who had every reason to walk away but didn’t. Who saw each other fully, flaws and fears included, and chose to stay.
This wasn’t just a story of enemies turned lovers.
It was a story of strangers who met behind screens, unravelled each other in person, and decided, with open eyes and open hearts, to begin again.
Not because it was easy, but because it was real.
And when it’s real, you choose it.
Every time.
Always.
THE END
