Ted and Louisa step off the train into a town transformed by redevelopment, with scaffolding, excavators, and restricted walkways. The changed skyline, including luxury apartments blocking the view toward the pier, underscores how far Ted feels from belonging. Startled by the hammering of nearby workers, Ted’s body tensed, revealing his ongoing trauma.

At the platform’s end, Ted’s thoughts return to the last day in July many years ago, after the group visited the museum. He fixated on the imagined sound of a head being struck—a blow he never heard but still fears—reflecting on human fragility and the permanence of that summer’s brief yet heavy time. He remembered seeing in Joar’s eyes a cold, ash-like resolve to kill his father, not rage, concluding the world was more dangerous than Joar could overcome.

Ted quietly directs Louisa away, and they take a bus toward the churchyard instead of the friends’ old crossroads. At the gate, Louisa waits out of respect. Ted furtively picks three small flowers, joking that he “adopted” them, then kneels at the artist’s grave to apologize for not bringing the ashes and to affirm, “I love you and I believe in you,” acknowledging their inseparable bond from youth regardless of the missing remains.

Leaving the churchyard, Ted tells Louisa they are near “the end of the story.” They walk through neighborhoods that gradually decline in wealth and upkeep, from large houses to rusted cars and neglected lawns, until they reach a cramped cul-de-sac of ramshackle homes. Ted approaches the final house, ascends the narrow veranda, and knocks.

The door opens, and despite the twenty-five years that have passed, the eyes in the doorway are unmistakable. Though Louisa has never met him, she recognizes the man instantly: Joar. The moment confirms that Joar survived and remained in or returned to the area, bringing Ted’s long-told story to a present confrontation.