"Willa," he panted, his words disjointed. "Can... you..."
Willa pulled her arm free from Sophie's grip, turned around, and looked at him. Her tone was completely flat. "Why are you here?"
"I came... to see you off." Randal refused to let go of her hand. His lips moved, as if struggling to voice his thoughts.
"Can you..."
"It's almost time to board. If I don't go through security now, I'll miss my flight," Willa interrupted deliberately. She pried his fingers off her wrist with a faint smile. "Goodbye, Randal. I hope we never meet again."
With that, she grabbed Sophie's hand and walked through security without a single backward glance.
Willa didn't dare turn around, terrified that if she did, she wouldn't be able to take another step.
She understood that everything Randal was doing now was simply an attempt to make up for the regrets of five years ago.
But what he didn't understand was that some endings were predetermined. One different choice wasn't going to rewrite history.
People were prone to falling into that trap, constantly believing that if they had just taken a different path, everything would have turned out fine.
But the inevitable storms would always hit in the end.
It was late autumn when Willa arrived in Switzerland.
The house Corbin had arranged for her was situated right by Lake Geneva; opening the window revealed a stunning view of the snow-capped mountains.
Sophie stayed with her for a month, ensuring everything was settled before reluctantly flying back home.
She hugged Willa and cried before leaving, promising, "I'll come visit you every single month."
The baby was born in the winter. He was a healthy baby boy, weighing nearly seven pounds.
Sophie flew in a week early, and Corbin arrived two days prior. He stood outside the delivery room, his expression as calm and composed as ever.
When the nurse brought the baby out, Sophie bawled louder than the newborn. "Why is he so wrinkly? He doesn't look like Willa at all."


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