And when Jack finally told her, one late night in the kitchen, that she felt different, Rosalind had looked at him with quiet hurt and said, “I lost eight years, Jack. You can’t ask me to come back exactly the same.” That landed harder than he wanted it to. Because it was fair. Because it was true.
Because if she really was Sarah, then maybe this was what getting someone back actually looked like. Broken. Changed. Almost, but not quite, the same. And for a while, that was enough for Jack to keep believing. That night, the house was finally quiet. Willow was asleep in the guest room.