Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine: The Milestone
Lina turned sixty-five on a rainy Tuesday in March.
Sixty-five. She could hardly believe it when she said the number out loud. Sixty-five years of life. Sixty-five years of surviving and growing and learning and loving. Sixty-five years since she had been born to a woman who would eventually betray her, in a family that would eventually crumble, in a world that would eventually try to break her.
But she was not broken.
She was still here.
She was still standing.
She was still becoming.
---
Ethan noticed her mood.
"What's wrong?" he asked, as they lay in bed on the morning of her birthday.
"Nothing."
"You've been quiet for weeks."
Lina was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I'm turning sixty-five."
"I know. I was there when you were born."
Lina laughed despite herself. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
Lina sighed. "I feel old."
Ethan propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her.
"You're not old," he said. "You're experienced."
"That's what old people say."
"Experienced people say that."
Lina sighed again.
Ethan kissed her forehead. "Get dressed. We have plans."
Lina blinked. "We do?"
"We do."
---
Ethan surprised her with a trip, just like he had done for their tenth, fifteenth, twentieth, twenty-fifth, and thirtieth anniversaries.
"Pack a bag," he said, handing her a small suitcase.
Lina looked at him. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"I don't like surprises."
"Yes, you do."
Lina sighed. "Fine. But I'm packing extra shoes."
Ethan laughed.
"That's my wife," he said.
---
The destination was a small inn on the coast, the same one where they had spent so many anniversaries, so many weekends, so many moments of falling in love all over again.
Lina recognized it immediately—the white sand, the turquoise water, the porch overlooking the ocean. She stood in the doorway of their room, her hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
"You brought me back again," she said.
Ethan came up behind her and put his arms around her waist.
"Of course I did," he said. "It's where we fell in love again."
Lina leaned into him.
"I didn't know I needed this," she said.
"That's why I planned it."
They stood in the doorway, holding each other, while the rain fell outside and the waves crashed against the shore.
---
The weekend was a blur of sun and sand and slow, lazy days.
They slept late. They ate too much. They walked along the beach and swam in the ocean and made love in the afternoon because there was no one to hear them and nowhere to be.
Lina read a book. Ethan tried to surf again, with slightly more success than last time. They talked about everything and nothing—their childhoods, their dreams, their fears for the future.
On the last night, they sat on the porch, watching the stars.
"I forgot what this was like," Lina said. "Being alone with you. Not being Mama. Not being Mrs. Blackwood. Just being Lina."
Ethan took her hand. "I never forgot."
"What do you mean?"
"I see you, Lina. Not the mother. Not the grandmother. You. The woman who survived a coma. The woman who fought for her family. The woman who makes me laugh when I don't want to."
Lina's eyes filled with tears.
"I see you too," she said. "The man who waited. The man who never gave up. The man who loves me even when I'm difficult."
"You're not difficult."
"I'm extremely difficult."
Ethan laughed. "Okay. You're extremely difficult. But you're worth it."
They sat in silence, watching the stars.
And Lina thought about all the years she had spent searching for something she could not name.
She had finally found it.
Not in a place. Not in a person.
In a choice.
The choice to love. The choice to stay. The choice to be here, right now, in this moment.
---
The drive home was bittersweet.
Lina watched the beach disappear in the rearview mirror, replaced by rolling hills and open fields and the familiar chaos of the city. She was sad to leave but happy to return.
"Ready to see the family?" Ethan asked.
"Ready."
"Ready to be Grandma?"
Lina thought about the question.
"I'm always Grandma," she said. "Even when I'm not."
Ethan reached over and took her hand.
"That's true," he said. "That's very true."
---
The family celebrated that night.
The penthouse was filled with people—Victoria and Victor and Katherine, David and his half-siblings, Lily and Jake and Grace and Clara, Leo and Maya and Stella, Emily and Hope, friends and neighbors and the particular chaos of a family that had something to celebrate.
The grandchildren had made cards. Grace's was covered in stars. Stella's was covered in scribbles. Clara's was covered in drool.
Lina read them all and cried.
"Grandma, why are you crying?" Grace asked.
"Happy tears," Lina said.
Grace considered this. "That's allowed."
Lina laughed.
She pulled her granddaughter into her arms.
"Yes," she said. "It is."
---
The cake was a surprise.
Ethan had ordered it from the best bakery in the city—a three-layer confection covered in buttercream flowers and the words "Sixty-Five and Fabulous" in gold icing.
Lina stared at the cake.
"Sixty-five and fabulous," she read.
"You are," Ethan said.
"I'm sixty-five."
"You're fabulous."
Lina laughed.
She blew out the candles.
She made a wish.
She did not tell anyone what it was.
But Ethan saw her look at the children. At the grandchildren. At Victoria and Victor and Katherine. At David and his half-siblings. At him.
And he knew.
---
Later, after the guests had gone home and the family was asleep, Lina sat on the couch with Ethan.
The penthouse was quiet. The twins were grown. The grandchildren were dreaming.
"How do you feel?" Ethan asked.
"Old," she said. "But happy. Really, truly happy."
Ethan put his arm around her.
"That's all that matters," he said.
Lina leaned into him.
"I love you," she said.
Ethan kissed her forehead.
"I love you too," he said.
They sat in the darkness, holding each other, while the city hummed outside the window.
And Lina thought about all the years ahead. The challenges. The joys. The moments she would hold Ethan's hand and the moments she would have to let go.
She was not afraid.
Not anymore.
She had survived worse.
She could survive anything.
As long as she had him.
---
End of Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine