Like she’s confirming it’s all still real.
Then she turns toward me.
“We actually did it.”
“Yes.”
“The system is gone.”
“Yes.”
“No one can use it.”
“Yes.”
She laughs quietly.
“I keep waiting for another message to pop up.”
I watch a tear slide from the corner of her eye, she wipes it away.
“No laptops.”
“No alerts.”
“No systems asking for directives.”
“Just… life.”
She walks out onto the back deck.
The water stretches out behind the house like a mirror.
The sun is beginning to dip toward the horizon.
The same peaceful view that greeted us the first time we came here together.
Wren rests her arms on the railing.
“I think this might be my favorite place in the world.”
“That’s good.”
“Why?”
“Because I was hoping you’d say that.”
She glances back at me.
“You really thought I’d stay.”
“I hoped.”
She studies the river again.
Then says quietly—
“I want to build something different now.”
