Chapter 14
The years passed.
Good years.
Happy years.
Ilaria turned ten.
She was in fourth grade.
She was smart.
Funny.
Kind.
She still had her wheelchair.
But she was more independent than ever.
She had a special van.
She could get in and out by herself.
She had friends who loved her.
Friends who didn't see the wheelchair.
They just saw Ilaria.
Elena and I were stronger than ever.
We had been through hell.
But we had come out the other side.
Better.
Stronger.
More in love.
We had our rough days, of course.
Who doesn't?
But we communicated.
We talked things through.
We never let resentment build.
We knew too well how precious time was.
How quickly things could change.
We made sure to say "I love you" every day.
We made sure to have date nights.
We made sure our marriage was a priority.
Celeste was still in prison.
We didn't think about her much.
She had become a distant memory.
A bad dream we had woken up from.
Occasionally, someone would ask about her.
A reporter.
A stranger who recognized our story.
But we didn't dwell on it.
We focused on the present.
On the good.
On the love.
Elena continued her advocacy work.
She helped start a foundation for survivors of kidnapping and domestic violence.
It provided resources.
Support.
Hope.
She changed lives.
So many lives.
I was so proud to call her my wife.
My mother moved into a house nearby.
She was getting older.
We wanted to be close.
She spent a lot of time with Ilaria.
They were best friends.
My mother would say that Ilaria kept her young.
And Ilaria would say that Grandma was the coolest person she knew.
Life was good.
Really good.
We had everything we needed.
Each other.
Love.
Safety.
Hope.
May you like
And we were grateful.
Every single day.
