I tapped my pen against the wooden desk as my hand supported my chin, and my eyes felt like sand was in them after staring at a computer screen for so long. I'd be a liar if I said becoming a paralegal was my dream career, looking at files and computers for hours on end and spending half of my work week in meetings definitely wouldn't make anyone feel real passionate about their job- but I was happy. The position paid well, they were willing to take me on with an associate's degree and little work experience, and it was a vast improvement to where a younger, more pessimistic version of myself thought I'd end up.

"Ivan!" I heard shouting from the cubicle across from me, rolling my eyes as a hand suddenly popped up over the top of the divider, waving around obnoxiously. "Ivan!" the voice called again. Groaning, I got up from my chair and walked around the cubicle to stand in front of my coworker Allison, who was giving me a very innocent look and holding out a red folder as she batted her eyelashes.

"Let me guess," I sighed, folding my arms in front of me.

"Copies. Four of each. Pretty please," she grinned, clasping her hands on top of her pregnant belly. I took the folder from her, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do when you can't use pregnancy as an excuse to get others to do your bidding?" I relied monotonously.

Alison shrugged, rubbing her large belly absentmindedly. "I'll think of something else. Use my good looks to coerce unknowing men."

I remained stone faced as I blinked at her. "You know that's not-"

"Not going to work on you, yeah, yeah, we know. I'll find someone else," she said batting her hand dismissively as her desk phone started ringing. "Now shoo, I have to take this," she reached over to the end of her desk, answering the phone pleasantly as she blew me a kiss. I smiled, shaking my head. She reminded me a lot of Vera, who I rarely spoke to these days due to an unfortunate falling out after I moved across the country. Allison was almost comforting in a way, she was so much like my former high school friend that I often felt like Vera had come with me to Massachusetts, both of us now more mature and wiser. Walking down to the copy room, I said hello to Jim, the boss, as he sling shot a rubber band through the air towards me from his office chair. He just barely missed as I lurched forward to dodge it, laughing as he swore and banged his fist on the desk.

As I was scanning Allison's papers, I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my black slacks. Fishing it from my pants, a goofy grin spread across my face as I saw I had a text from Ethan, letting me know he was on his way home with an excessive amount of hearts and kissy faces. One more hour, and then I can be home with him.

Gathering up all the papers, I made my way back over to Allison, who was bouncing on that dumb exercise ball as she typed on her computer.

"Your highness," I said, bowing my head in mock respect as I presented the folder out in front of me, my gold wedding band with three small diamonds glinting underneath the bright fluorescent lighting of the office.

~

I pulled into our driveway and parked next to Ethan's black Chevrolet. It was a newer year than what he had when we were teenagers, but he was adamant about sticking with a black Chevrolet. My grey Subaru still had that new car smell, as it was only a few days ago I finally saved up enough to afford it. I had never been more proud of myself than I was in that dealership getting handed the keys.

Grabbing my briefcase and lunch box, I slid out of the car and hurried to the front door, fumbling with my keys. After a long day at work, all I wanted to see was Ethan, who was usually home in the afternoon after his grueling medical school classes. One more year, and he would be moving into his psychiatry residency, as well as his final year of medical school.

"Babe?" I yelled into the quiet house, stumbling through the door. It looked like a tornado blew through here, but we were still in the process of unpacking after moving.

"Over here!" Ethan popped up from behind the kitchen island, a big grin on his face as his brown hair stuck straight out. He had on a thin white t-shirt covered in sweat and grease. "How was your day, baby?" He walked over, giving me a peck on the lips.

I wrinkled my nose. "Good- you stink. What're you doing?" I respond, setting my things down on the kitchen table.

"Just some touch ups on the house. The sink was leaking into the cabinet so I got a new washer to stick on there," he grinned, holding up a rusted metal washer encrusted with black gunk.

I winced. "Uh, lovely. Let me go upstairs and change, I want to get at least the living room cleaned up today, so hopefully everything will be sorted before we fly back to Washington," I said, Ethan giving me an army salute as I rushed upstairs to change into some jeans and an old t-shirt that was most likely Ethan's. In just a few days we were traveling back to Washington to attend the opening night of the musical Mary landed a lead role in at her high school, and Ethan was beside himself with excitement.

She would be playing Veronica from Heathers.

I often thought of that movie serving as the catalyst to the beginning of Ethan and I's relationship, that night filled with missed opportunities and awkward tension that led to the first rift between us, and now we were married. Life was funny like that.

After many years of therapy, dedicated care, and support from Mrs. Clarissa's friends, who welcomed Mary into their family with open arms after Mrs. Clarissa had passed, she's grown into a lovely young person. She was now a typical teenager, and it was hard believe she spent half her life having violent meltdowns and struggling with a lack of empathy for others. Mrs. Clarissa's death was difficult for her at first, but she processed the loss better than we had ever expected, better than anyone else even, and perhaps it was because she was a lot younger when Mrs. Clarissa was around, so she simply didn't have the bond Benji and I did.

Benji and I. . . well, neither of us took Mrs. Clarissa's death in great stride. I was plunged into my longest, most difficult psychotic episode yet, resulting in a week long inpatient stay.

I don't enjoy dwelling on that.

My younger brother went straight off the deep end when living with Paul and Nancy, Mrs. Clarissa's close friends. When Benji called me proclaiming he was fed up with his life and wanted to become emancipated at seventeen, I was less than thrilled. A major argument erupted between us, primarily me yelling at him that he wasn't responsible enough to live on his own, him yelling back that he was, proceeding to us not speaking for months.

Eventually tensions subsided when Benji found an apprenticeship with an electrician in the area, someone Paul had known growing up, and managed to obtain a decent enough savings to get a nice apartment- and even a new girl. He was coming to Mary's play as well, saying he wouldn't miss it for the world, and I just couldn't wait to see my baby brother again.

When I came back downstairs, my husband had gone back under the sink, so I threw myself down onto the living room floor with a huff, hauling the closest box over to me and tearing it open.

After an hour I stood up from the floor, my legs aching as I looked around at the mess with my hands on my hips. Our living room was covered in boxes, our stuff scattered haphazardly around, and I still couldn't find the rest of our silverware. With a sigh, I ran my hand through my hair, already hating the effort of unpacking after moving. It made me want to never move to another house again.

"Ivy? Can you come here for a moment?" I heard Ethan call from where he was hammering nails into our stairwell wall, so I walked over to stand next to him.

"How does that look?" Ethan asked, climbing down from a small step ladder. I looked at the line of framed pictures across our stairwell; the first was a picture of Ethan and I saying our vows at the altar, watery smiles radiating happiness, the second a picture of Ethan and I in our college graduation caps and gowns. Ethan of course was adorned in his red Harvard gown, me representing the nearby community college, but both of us proudly displaying our degrees. The third picture was one of Anna's senior photos, her tan skin and freckles popped in the sunlight, a smile that conveyed pure warmth and kindness. I never knew her, but I felt like I did just looking at her picture, and there was no doubt in my mind that as Ethan's best friend, she belonged on our wall with the rest of our happy memories. The fourth picture, the one Ethan had just nailed to the wall, caused tears to roll down my cheeks. It was of Mrs. Clarissa and her husband Tom, sitting on a picnic blanket in some park with eight year old me in between them. My black hair was a disheveled mess and a grumpy frown adorned my face as I glared at the camera, but Tom and Mrs. Clarissa's eyes radiated pride and excitement- the faces of two doting new parents. That picture had been taken only a month after Tom brought me home from Germany. He was staying with his professor from medical school in his professor's small hometown just outside of Berlin, who was working with a pair of foster parents dealing with what appeared to be an incredibly troubled child. Of course Tom was always up for an educational experience, even though that "educational experience" ended up being his first kid. Mrs. Clarissa told me over and over again about the time Tom had met me, how he knew that I was his son the moment he laid eyes on me. I never believed her at first, but over the years I've grown, I finally did.

I was their son.

I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to muffle my sobs as Ethan hugged me tightly. Mrs. Clarissa had passed three summers ago, only two weeks after Ethan and I's wedding. She was wheelchair bound and barely had any cognitive function left, but the way she smiled when she saw us at the altar- I knew she understood what she was seeing. It was a sudden moment of mental clarity people often spoke about when someone's time on Earth was nearing an end, and I knew she was happy she was able to see me get married and graduate before she passed.

Wiping my eyes, I sniffed and looked back at the row of pictures, nodding.

"It's perfect," I whispered, resting my head on Ethan's shoulder.

It sometimes felt like a dream, that I was living someone else's life that I had stolen from them- that I was an imposter. I knew if my younger self could see me now, graduated from college with a steady job, standing next to my high school sweetheart turned husband in our new home, he would have been so proud.

I wish I could tell him that he didn't need to be so afraid, that his future was always bright.

That he was never alone.

~

And that marks the end of Ivan's story. Thank you all so much for supporting and engaging with this book, it means a lot to me. I truly am so grateful. :)

There is more! The following chapter is in Ethan's POV, including his thoughts on various scenes from the book and new content never seen before!