Page 89 of Never Quite Gone

Sofia arrived as we returned, bringing coffee and her usual energy. Emma - their wedding planner - followed with arms full of flowers, immediately starting to arrange them with artistic precision. Their easy acceptance of our unusual family still felt like a gift.

“Marcus is bringing Alex's suit,” Sofia said, but something in her voice made me look closer. She seemed... lighter somehow, more present than I'd ever seen her.

“You've made your choice,” I realized, watching her expertly fix my tie. “About the immortality.”

Her smile held both sadness and relief. “Time for someone else to watch over the patterns.” she said softly.

Alex moved closer, concern clear in his expression. “You're sure? After all these centuries?”

“That's exactly why.” Sofia's hands stilled on my tie. “I've watched and waited through so many lifetimes. Kept the balance, maintained the patterns. But now...” She looked between us with genuine warmth. “Now it's time for me to live one life fully, to experience love and loss like everyone else.”

“And Marcus?” Alex asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

“Made a different choice,” Marcus said, appearing in the doorway with Alex's suit. “Some of us are meant to remember, to carry the stories forward. My immortality wasn't from Will's ritual or Vale's curse. It was a choice I made long before either - to witness, to protect, to remember so others could forget.”

“But how?” I couldn't help asking. “How did you become... what you are?”

Marcus's smile held secrets older than time. “Some souls are born knowing their purpose. Mine was to watch, to guard, to keep the balance through ages. Not because of magic or ritual, but because that's what I am.” He straightened his perfect suit with practiced ease. “Someone needs to remember the whole story, to guide new souls when old patterns repeat.”

“While some of us need rest,” Sofia added, squeezing my shoulder gently. “One lifetime, lived fully and freely. No more watching from the shadows, no more maintaining ancient balances.” Her eyes met Emma's across the room, carrying promises that needed no magic to bind them. “Just love, chosen every day until its natural end.”

“Which is why,” Marcus said with fond exasperation, “we need to finish getting you ready. Alex's father will be here soon with that ridiculous champagne he special ordered.”

Alex's smile held warmth at the mention of his father. Since reading Will's journal, William had become their strongest supporter. His understanding of family patterns made accepting us easier somehow – as if Will's written testimony had explained things he'd always sensed but never understood.

The morning passed in comfortable chaos. Marcus appeared with Alex's suit and a small box that made Sofia roll her eyes fondly. “Just tradition,” he said with a wink, but there was only joy in his gaze now.

Our circle had shifted, reformed, but remained strong. Better for being chosen rather than fated. Baby Sarah's presence felt like proof of life continuing, of love creating new patterns untainted by ancient magic.

“Need help with that?” Alex asked, catching me struggling with my tie again. His hands were warm as he adjusted the silk. “Though I have to say, for a surgeon, your tie skills are questionable.”

“That's why I have you,” I replied, leaning into his touch. “For all the important things in life.”

The doorbell announced more arrivals – William with his champagne, my parents bringing enough food to feed an army, friends and family filling our home with voices and laughter. This was what Will never understood, what Vale learned too late – that love didn't need to be bound by magic to last. That one life, lived fully and chosen freely, could hold more joy than centuries of fated meetings.

Sofia caught my eye across the room, her smile holding simple happiness rather than ancient knowing. Emma arranged flowers while discussing kindergarten plans with Rachel, both of them cooing over Sarah's attempts to reach the blooms. Marcus chatted with William about vintage wines, their conversation comfortably normal.

“Ready for this?” Rachel appeared at my elbow after putting Sarah down for a quick nap upstairs. “Getting married again?”

“More than ready,” I replied, watching Alex laugh atsomething David had said. “This is better, isn't it? Just being happy, being together because we choose to be?”

Looking around our home filled with people we loved, at the life we were building that needed no magic to feel miraculous, I had to agree. This was what love should be: chosen freely, lived fully, precious because it was finite rather than eternal.

Alex caught my eye across the room, his smile holding all the promise I needed. No past lives pressing for attention, no ancient patterns demanding to be maintained. Just this: morning light and warm hands and the simple miracle of choosing each other every day.

Just the quiet joy of being perfectly, wonderfully mortal.

The ceremony space in the Rothschild estate's conservatory felt sacred without being ancient. Emma and Sofia had transformed it with flowers and herbs that spoke of healing and protection – lavender for peace, rosemary for memory, white roses for new beginnings. Sunlight streamed through glass walls, painting everything in colors that made my surgeon's hands finally feel uncertain.

Until Alex took them in his own.

Rachel stood beside me as my “best sister,” baby Sarah sleeping peacefully in David's arms in the front row. Sofia took her place before us, carrying both legal and ancient authority in her simple white dress. The gathered guests – family and friends, chosen and blood – created a circle of love that needed no magic to feel powerful.

Two empty seats in the front row held white roses – one for Will, one for Michael. Not ghosts haunting us, but honored absences, part of the story that brought us here. William's eyes lingered on his son's rose before finding mine with quiet understanding.

Alex squeezed my hands gently as Sofia beganthe ceremony. We'd written our own vows, words that acknowledged everything while choosing this present moment above all others. When it was time, Alex's voice carried to the farthest corners of the conservatory:

“Eli,” he began, his eyes never leaving mine, “I've been practicing this speech for weeks, trying to find the perfect words. But standing here now, looking at you, I realize that perfection isn't what matters. What matters is truth. And the truth is, I choose you. Not because of fate or destiny or any power greater than ourselves. I choose you because of who you are in this moment – the surgeon who saves lives, the man who makes me laugh at three AM, the soul who understands that love isn't about holding on too tight but about choosing each other every single day.”

---