After the children finished writing their heartfelt letters, spent from crying, they fell asleep without dinner. Alex carried each one to bed, kissed their foreheads, and whispered apologies into the quiet.
The idea of depriving these innocent children of their mother—or never seeing her again himself—was unbearable.
Lu said gently, “Let’s wait for the papers from the De Valois lawyers. We’ll review them together and note your requests.”
But Alex couldn’t think anymore. His mind had shut down under the weight of grief.
Lu and Kacy returned to their hotel, leaving Alex alone with his devastation.
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Late into the night, Alex remained on the outdoor bench, staring into the dark. He’d reached his limit—he couldn’t even summon the strength to move.
He set the children’s letters beside him, touching them as if they were sacred.
I can’t see Nao anymore… It’s what I deserve. But what about the children? How do I explain this to them?
Sorrow swallowed him as he tried to imagine a future without her.
Alex wrote to Naosa, tore it up, and wrote again—over and over. It was too painful to compress everything into words. Lovely memories kept flooding back, and he hated himself for having forgotten their meaning until now.
After what felt like hours, a soft light drifted through the trees. The warm glow of a lantern.
The light-bearer was Naosa.
Alex rose slowly, clutching his letter, and followed. She entered a small, weathered stone hut among the trees.
A wave of recognition washed over him. He remembered this place.
The Spring of Prayer…
He stepped inside.
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Naosa stood before what had once been the sacred spring—now dry and silent.
“Nao…” Alex said softly.
She turned, freezing in shock. “Alex… Why are you here?”
“I came to see your performance,” he answered gently. “The children and I watched all three nights. It was magnificent.”
“Oh…” she said simply, moving toward the door.
“Please, Nao—”
“This isn’t the time for us to meet,” she said, still trying to leave.
Alex’s voice broke. “Nao, please. I’ll accept all your conditions. I won’t contest anything. Just let me speak for a few minutes. Please.”
She paused, turned back, and said quietly, “Alright… just for a little while.”
She looked as tense and fragile as he felt.
Alex straightened, drew a breath, and began. “Nao, I am truly, deeply sorry. I’m a fool. I thought I valued you more than anything, but in the end I was thinking only of myself and my fears. I know I disappointed you terribly. I did things you could hate me for. But my love for you—my love hasn’t changed at all since the beginning. Please believe that, if nothing else.”
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Naosa looked bewildered, almost pained. “Alex, you’ve been a wonderful father and husband. Don’t speak so harshly about yourself. The truth is… I lost myself completely. Back in France, here, I can breathe as myself for the first time in years. I thought maybe then the children would see me differently—respect me…”
Tears began to spill.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I couldn’t be a good wife or mother. I failed you all.”
“That’s not true,” Alex said urgently. “It couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re the most loving, wonderful mother our children could have, and they adore you. You’re too good a wife for someone like me. I made you feel small and invisible.”
He suddenly remembered. “Oh—these. Letters from the children. They wrote them to make you feel better.”
Naosa winced and tried to leave again. “I really have to go, Alex.”
“Wait—please let me read them.”
Hands shaking, he opened the first.
“Aaron can’t write yet, but look—he drew you and wrote Mammy in his little letters.” He unfolded Travis’s. “From Travis: ‘Mammy, are you okay? I saw your performance. It was so wonderful and beautiful. Mommy is beautiful and always kind to everyone. You make the most delicious food, teach me so many things, and I love listening to Mommy play piano and sing. I love Mommy’s smile the most in the whole world. Mommy, I love you more than anything.’”
Naosa broke, tears streaming.
Alex went on, voice frayed. “And this is from Tracy… ‘Mommy, I’m so, so sorry for everything. I love you so much, and I don’t know why I was so mean to you. But it’s okay if Mommy isn’t a queen or a princess. I love the kind Mommy who holds my hand when I’m sick, who bandages my cuts, who sleeps with me when I have scary dreams, who promises to stay with me forever. Mommy, I’m truly, truly sorry for hurting you.’”
Naosa covered her face and wept.
“And… this is from me,” Alex said.
She looked up, startled.
All through their years together, Naosa had written Alex beautiful cards for birthdays and holidays. Alex brought gifts, but he had never once written to her.
Crying, a little embarrassed, he read: “Nao, this is the first letter I’ve ever written you, and I can’t believe I might never see you again. I have been impossibly happy every single day since I met you. I don’t know how to exist in a world without you.”
His voice thinned.
“I promised never to let go—and I didn’t. But I held on too tightly. I kept my pace without noticing when you were tired, when you needed me to slow down. When you were sick, every moment felt precious and I cherished each one. But once you recovered and we had our children, I let happiness become ordinary. Your kindness, your presence, your love—I took them for granted.”
He swallowed.
“That doesn’t mean my love has dimmed—I still love you with everything I am. But if staying with me truly hurts you, then even though losing you will destroy me, I will let go. I’m sorry, Nao. I swore I would protect you, and instead I hurt you.”
He couldn’t go on.
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“Thank you,” Naosa whispered, and started past him toward the door.
Alex closed his eyes, unable to watch her go. He stood there, crying—accepting that this was goodbye.
After a few steps, she stopped. “Alex… when the children are grown and independent, it will be just the two of us again. Can you picture that time?”
He turned, tears blurring his vision. “I think about it all the time. We’ll take a second honeymoon—a real one. Maybe we’ll be too old for the deserted-island adventure, but we’ll go back to that sweet life, just the two of us.”
He managed a watery smile. “I might be fat and bald by then, but you’ll still be the most beautiful woman on this planet. We’ll travel everywhere, do everything we never had time for. And when we’ve had our adventures and watched our children build their own beautiful lives, I’ll pass away peacefully—with you holding my hand.”
Naosa shook her head with a small smile. “You’re selfish. If I’m alone at that age, I won’t be able to remarry, and I won’t know how to live without you. Yet you plan to leave me.”
Alex frowned lightly. “But I’m older, and I literally can’t live without you. I should go first, shouldn’t I? Though if I had my way, I wouldn’t want you to remarry—and I’d want to take you with me. It would be too hard to wait, apart, until we’re reborn and find each other again. I just found you. I never want to be separated again.”
His voice gentled. “If it were possible, I’d want us to fall asleep forever—together—so you’re never afraid and never alone.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “That would be lovely.”
She gave him a troubled, mischievous smile. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to see you. You can always convince me of anything.”
Alex held out his trembling hand. She took it and pressed it to her cheek. They looked at each other—both crying, both home.
He pulled her close, burying his face against her shoulder. “Nao, I’m so sorry. So deeply sorry.”
He kissed the crown of her head, then they pressed their foreheads together and kissed softly, sealing their return to each other.
In the hush, they heard water begin to flow.
Against his lips, Naosa whispered, “Our wishes have been granted.”
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