Chapter 14
One year later.
We got married in December. Small ceremony. Twelve people. A courthouse followed by dinner at the terrible Italian place that had become our restaurant.
Natasha was my maid of honor. Molly—my college friend, the innocent one—stood beside her, crying happy tears.
No poisoned drinks. No cars in parking garages. No balconies, rooftops, or dark coatrooms.
Just us.
Ethan wore a simple navy suit. I wore a short white dress. No train. No veil. Nothing anyone could grab or tear or use against me.
When the officiant asked if I took this man, I didn't hesitate.
"I do."
And when Ethan said it back, his voice cracked on the second word. This man who'd silently endured four hundred nightmares—broken by two syllables of happiness.
After dinner, we walked home through the snow. The city was quiet. Peaceful in the way only winter nights can be.
"Can I tell you something?" Ethan said.
"Always."
"Every morning I still wake up and check the date first. Before anything else."
"Me too."
"Does that ever go away?"
I thought about it. The phantom alarm. The spike of fear every time my phone buzzed. The way my body still tensed at midnight, waiting for a reset that would never come.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I'd rather check the date with you next to me than alone."
He squeezed my hand.
"There's one more thing I never told you," he said.
"What?"
He stopped walking. Turned to face me. Snow gathered in his hair, on his shoulders.
"In loop four hundred and one—the final loop—something happened after you died on that rooftop. After Victoria shot you."
"I remember. I didn't die. Midnight came."
"No. You did die. The bullet hit your shoulder but the blood loss—you bled out at 11:59. I watched your eyes close."
My blood ran cold. "That's impossible. I woke up in the hospital on June 16th."
Ethan's eyes were steady. "You woke up on June 16th because of me."
"What do you mean?"
"The loop gave each of us a role. You were the one who had to survive. I was the one who had to choose. And in that final moment, when I saw you dying—I was given a choice. My life for yours. My remaining time in exchange for tipping you past midnight."
I stared at him. "Ethan. What did you do?"
"I chose you." He said it simply. Like it was obvious. Like there was never another option.
"But—you're here. You're alive—"
"I know." He smiled. "That's the part I can't explain. I made the choice. I felt something leave me. And then—I woke up on June 16th too. Alive. Whole. Like the loop rewarded me for finally making the sacrifice instead of just trying to outrun it."
Tears streamed down my face. "You could have died."
"I would have died. A thousand times. For you."
"You almost did. Four hundred times."
"And I'd do it four hundred more."
I grabbed his face and kissed him, there in the snow, in the middle of the sidewalk, in our imperfect, scarred, miraculous life.
We walked home. December 15th. Six months away from that cursed date in June.
And as I unlocked our door—our door, our apartment, our future—I checked my phone one last time.
December 15, 2025.
Tomorrow existed.
And it was ours.
We got married in December. Small ceremony. Twelve people. A courthouse followed by dinner at the terrible Italian place that had become our restaurant.
Natasha was my maid of honor. Molly—my college friend, the innocent one—stood beside her, crying happy tears.
No poisoned drinks. No cars in parking garages. No balconies, rooftops, or dark coatrooms.
Just us.
Ethan wore a simple navy suit. I wore a short white dress. No train. No veil. Nothing anyone could grab or tear or use against me.
When the officiant asked if I took this man, I didn't hesitate.
"I do."
And when Ethan said it back, his voice cracked on the second word. This man who'd silently endured four hundred nightmares—broken by two syllables of happiness.
After dinner, we walked home through the snow. The city was quiet. Peaceful in the way only winter nights can be.
"Can I tell you something?" Ethan said.
"Always."
"Every morning I still wake up and check the date first. Before anything else."
"Me too."
"Does that ever go away?"
I thought about it. The phantom alarm. The spike of fear every time my phone buzzed. The way my body still tensed at midnight, waiting for a reset that would never come.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I'd rather check the date with you next to me than alone."
He squeezed my hand.
"There's one more thing I never told you," he said.
"What?"
He stopped walking. Turned to face me. Snow gathered in his hair, on his shoulders.
"In loop four hundred and one—the final loop—something happened after you died on that rooftop. After Victoria shot you."
"I remember. I didn't die. Midnight came."
"No. You did die. The bullet hit your shoulder but the blood loss—you bled out at 11:59. I watched your eyes close."
My blood ran cold. "That's impossible. I woke up in the hospital on June 16th."
Ethan's eyes were steady. "You woke up on June 16th because of me."
"What do you mean?"
"The loop gave each of us a role. You were the one who had to survive. I was the one who had to choose. And in that final moment, when I saw you dying—I was given a choice. My life for yours. My remaining time in exchange for tipping you past midnight."
I stared at him. "Ethan. What did you do?"
"I chose you." He said it simply. Like it was obvious. Like there was never another option.
"But—you're here. You're alive—"
"I know." He smiled. "That's the part I can't explain. I made the choice. I felt something leave me. And then—I woke up on June 16th too. Alive. Whole. Like the loop rewarded me for finally making the sacrifice instead of just trying to outrun it."
Tears streamed down my face. "You could have died."
"I would have died. A thousand times. For you."
"You almost did. Four hundred times."
"And I'd do it four hundred more."
I grabbed his face and kissed him, there in the snow, in the middle of the sidewalk, in our imperfect, scarred, miraculous life.
We walked home. December 15th. Six months away from that cursed date in June.
And as I unlocked our door—our door, our apartment, our future—I checked my phone one last time.
December 15, 2025.
Tomorrow existed.
And it was ours.