Epilogue - Of all the possibilities, this one
A new woman steps into the apartment a few weeks later—tall, confident, with the kind of effortless beauty Shannon once tortured herself trying to become. Long legs, luminous skin, easy laugh. She is everything the old Shannon wanted to be and never could.
Paul greets her warmly, kisses her cheek, then her mouth when she leans in. They talk on the couch. She asks, gently, about the ex he mentioned once.
Paul shrugs, a little sad but not bitter. “Shannon? We had our moments. Fought sometimes, sure. But she wasn’t a bad person. Things just… drifted. She pulled away slowly. Sometimes that happens.” He doesn’t elaborate. There’s nothing to hold against her, nothing to forgive. She simply became smaller in his life until she fit neatly on the shelf with the rest of his memories.
They move to the bedroom. Clothes come off. The new woman is gorgeous naked, exactly the fantasy Shannon once chased. She rides Paul with joyful abandon, moaning loud and free. Paul’s hands grip her hips the way they once gripped someone else’s, his groans deep and satisfied.
On the shelf above the nightstand, a doll in an emerald prom dress sits perfectly posed, glossy lips curved in a faint, unchanging smile. Painted eyes watch without blinking.
Shannon would have been sick with jealousy, but dolls don’t get jealous.
