---- the critical condition notice the doctor had handed me. "The patient has multiple fractures and severe internal bleeding," the doctor said gravely. "His chance of survival is less than twenty-five percent. We need to contact his next of kin to authorize the procedure." My blood ran cold. I was no longer his next of kin. The divorce decree had severed that tie. I tooka shaky breath and finally called his parents. During the long wait, I sat on a cold chair outside the operating room, my gaze fixed on the clock on the wall. Anurse brought me Finn's personal effects. A briefcase, soaked in blood. I opened it and stopped breathing. ---- Inside, it was filled with files for Legal Aid Center clients-domestic abuse survivors, abducted children, undocumented immigrants. And at the very bottom lay the notarized documents confirming the transfer of his entire fortune. Three months later, the "Balance Justice Law Firm" officially opened in Boston. Facing a crowd of reporters, I stood at the entrance and declared, my voice clear and strong, "The law is a scale meant to weigh for all of society. It should deliver justice to everyone, regardless of their wealth or status." As thunderous applause erupted, no one noticed the tall figure at the back of the crowd, wearing a mask and leaning on a cane. Finn watched me, radiant under the spotlight, in silence. For the next two years, we became the most familiar strangers in our profession. ---- While I fought for overtime pay for blue-collar workers, he was in the next building over, providing legal counsel for the homeless. While I pushed for new anti-child-abuse legislation, he was advocating for women who had been wrongfully killed. Occasionally, we would pass each other at a Bar Association gala. I would offer a polite nod; he would lower his head, avoiding my gaze. We were like two parallel tracks, always close, but never intersecting. Our lives never crossed again. Finn's POV But what Victoria didn't know was that after each of our brief encounters, Finn would stand in place for a long time, watching until she had completely disappeared from view. ---- And every night, he would look at those old photos, staring at the image of my back in the kitchen at Mount Pleasant, and ask himself the same question, over and over again. If I could turn back time, would I have cherished the woman who was willing to give up everything for me? But life doesn't offer do-overs. There are only missed chances and their consequences.