Chapter Text
The waterfront was painted in late-afternoon gold. Trina stood at the railing with the wind threading her hair and the low lap of waves against the pier. Footsteps approached.
“You came,” she said.
“You asked,” Morgan replied.
They stood with a few feet between them. Gulls called. Somewhere a saxophone played something unhurried.
“Thank you for meeting me,” she said.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do,” she answered. “You were good to me. You showed up when things were messy, and you didn’t have to.”
“Guess I wasn’t too bad for a stand-in,” he said, half-smile crooked.
“Don’t do that. Don’t make yourself smaller because I didn’t fall in love. The timing and the friendship mattered. You mattered.”
He let out a long breath. “I wanted to be angry. I tried. I can’t be. Not at you.”
“Good,” she said gently. “There’s nothing to be angry about. You loved me honestly. I’ll always be grateful.”
A breeze lifted a curl; he reached as if to fix it, then dropped his hand. She smiled—tenderness that no longer hurt.
“He’s lucky,” he said.
“We both are.”
“You’re really happy?”
“I am.” Steady as bedrock.
“You’ll find that too,” she added softly. “Maybe not today. But you will. Your heart deserves to be met.”
“You sure do know how to end a story.”
“No,” she said. “I just learned how to tell the truth.”
She stepped in and hugged him—brief, sincere. “Take care of yourself, Morgan.”
“You too, Mrs. Cassadine,” he said, and smiled like he meant it.
At the corner, Spencer waited, window down, hand outstretched. Trina didn’t look back. She didn’t have to. Two doves lifted from the pier behind her, bright wings catching the light as they rose in the same direction.
The triangle had always been about choices. Trina had finally chosen peace.