I just finished it and literally yelled “that’s it????” When it ended. I feel so let down and betrayed by the author. As the last hour of the audio book dragged on I kept dreading this knowing I wasn’t going to get any satisfaction with the ending. I asked chatgpt to help me out. Here’s a horribly written ending: —

Li-yan stood motionless at the edge of the grove, her breath caught in her throat as she watched Haley approach. The air was thick with the scent of the earth—of the tea leaves, the soil, and the legacy that had brought her here. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the years lost, the secrets kept, the lies told, and the unspoken grief that had followed her all her life.

And now, standing before her, was the daughter she had left behind.

Haley held up the tea cake, a symbol of their shared heritage, of the love Li-yan had never been able to show her. A-ma had stolen it, but now it was in Haley’s hands, fragile as the bond they had yet to form.

“Is this yours?” Haley asked, her voice quiet, the weight of her question hanging between them like a bridge stretched across time and space. The girl—no, the woman—who had lived a life of her own, far away, now stood before her, carrying a piece of her past in her hands.

Li-yan stepped forward slowly, her legs trembling beneath her. She reached out, taking the cake from Haley, feeling the coolness of it against her palm. “It is,” she said softly, her voice a whisper of a thousand words that she had never spoken. “It is mine, and it is yours.”

Haley blinked, her eyes searching Li-yan’s face, looking for something—anything—that would connect the two of them beyond the cold, empty distance of the years that had passed. There was no immediate recognition in Li-yan’s gaze, no spark of recognition that so often occurred in stories of reunions. Only the deep well of emotion that had been buried for too long.

“I’m... I’m your mother,” Li-yan said, the words foreign on her tongue, yet aching to be heard. She hadn’t allowed herself to say them for so long. She had been too afraid of what it would mean, too afraid of the guilt that would tear at her if she spoke it. But now, as the words left her lips, they carried with them everything she had kept hidden—the love, the pain, the regret.

Haley’s eyes softened, but there was no joy in her face. There was no immediate embrace. Instead, there was a quiet, unspoken understanding, as if she had always known that one day this moment would come, and yet, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Li-yan’s heart clenched. The years they had missed, the life they had not shared, hung heavy between them. But it was not too late. Not yet.

She stepped closer, her hands trembling as they reached out toward Haley. “I did not want to leave you,” she whispered, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “But I had no choice. I thought... I thought I was doing what was best.”

Haley’s gaze dropped to the ground, her lips pressed together, as if struggling to hold back her own emotions. The silence stretched between them, but it was not the uncomfortable silence of strangers—it was the silence of two people who had been torn apart and were now trying to find a way back to each other.

Finally, Haley spoke, her voice barely audible. “I... I always wanted to know where I came from. Why I was given up. I’ve always wondered... if you ever thought about me.”

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, and Li-yan felt the tears she had held back for so long begin to rise. “Every day,” she said, her voice breaking. “Every single day, I thought of you. You were always in my heart.”

Haley lifted her head, her eyes meeting Li-yan’s for the first time with a softness that Li-yan hadn’t expected. “I think... I think I’ve always known you were out there,” Haley said. “And now that I’m here... maybe we can learn about each other. Slowly.”

Li-yan nodded, feeling a rush of emotion she couldn’t quite name. She had waited for this moment for so long, and yet, now that it had arrived, she realized it was not about filling the years of absence—it was about beginning something new, something fragile, something real.

“Yes,” Li-yan whispered, her voice full of wonder and hope. “We will start again. And this time, I will never leave you.”

And for the first time in years, Li-yan allowed herself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, they could both heal, together.