Neither of their stories was accurate, but both were better that way. I heard them laughing while the stream murmured in the background and the fire dwindled to embers.
I understood that this was the true ending, not the police report or the public humiliation. My children were safe and happy under our roof, and I knew this place was still ours.
The truth had something stronger than any lie, which was time, patience, and deep roots. That is why the fish tasted better than ever the next morning.
THE END.