But I'm Different (A Demi Lovato Fanfiction)

Epilogue

The sunlight was soft and warm as it poured through the window, casting lazy golden stripes across my bedroom. I lay there for a moment, still wrapped in the cozy heaviness of my blanket, the quiet hum of morning around me. For once, my thoughts weren't tangled, racing in all directions like they usually did. Instead, there was a gentle calm settling deep in my chest, like the world was finally catching its breath along with me.

I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen before a message from Mia caught my eye.

"Good morning, baby. Can't wait to see you later. "

A grin spread across my face so wide it made my cheeks hurt. The feeling was different now-lighter, warmer. Mia and I had finally stepped out of the shadows and into something real. We'd admitted to ourselves what had always been there, but scared to be spoken aloud. No more guessing, no more hiding. Just... us.

I tapped back, "Morning, love. Counting down the minutes."

The doorbell rang later that morning, and I practically bounced across the room to open it. There she was-Mia-with her usual bright smile, eyes shining like the stars we'd stayed out to watch that night not so long ago.

I pulled her inside and wrapped my arms around her. We clung to each other, the quiet comfort of that hug saying more than words ever could.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered, her forehead resting against mine.

I shrugged shyly. "Better. I mean, really better. Rebecca's been amazing. I'm learning so much about managing my synesthesia, about not letting it control me."

Mia squeezed my hand gently. "I'm so proud of you. You've come so far."

"I couldn't have without Demi and you," I said softly. "Having you both in my corner made all the difference."

Her lips brushed mine-a slow, tender kiss filled with promises of everything we'd been too scared to say before.

The rest of the day passed in an easy rhythm. We talked about everything-the past, the scars we carried, and the future we hoped to build. I told Mia about the ways Rebecca had taught me to understand my mirror-touch synesthesia: how to recognize when it was overwhelming me, and the coping techniques that helped ground me.

"Some days are still tough," I admitted, "but I'm learning to give myself grace. To ask for help without feeling weak."

Mia nodded, eyes full of warmth. "That's all anyone can do, really."

Hearing those words out loud, sharing my fears and progress-it felt like peeling back layers I'd hidden from the world. I wasn't just Sabrina with a 'condition.' I was Sabrina, a person who was growing, healing, and fighting for happiness.

Later that evening, Demi and I curled up on the couch, the soft glow from the lamp warming the room. She ran her fingers through my hair, her touch light and familiar.

"You've changed so much, baby," she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

"I'm still me," I said, but even I could hear the difference in my tone. Stronger. Braver.

"No," she said firmly, "you're even more you. And I'm so damn proud of you."

I leaned into her, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath my ear.

"Thank you," I whispered, "for never giving up on me."

Demi kissed my temple. "Never. You're family. And I love you."

Those words wrapped around me like a shield. No matter what storms came, that love was my anchor. "I love you too, mummy."

The days that followed were full of small, beautiful moments: quiet mornings sipping coffee, laughing with Liam and the kids, sharing silly jokes with Mia as we wandered the city hand in hand, Demi cheering me on in therapy sessions.

I wasn't "fixed." There was no cure for what I had. But I was learning to live with it-to not just survive, but thrive.

Rebecca's tools helped me manage the synesthesia, but it was love-the support from Demi, Mia, and my newfound family-that gave me courage on the hard days.

I was no longer alone.

-----

One warm afternoon, Mia and I sat on a faded blanket in the park, the sun slipping low behind the trees. We watched kids playing and couples strolling, the city's hum fading into the background.

"I never thought I'd be here," Mia said quietly, her fingers intertwined with mine.

"Here how?" I asked, turning to her.

"Like this-with someone who gets me. Who sees me. And I don't have to pretend."

I smiled, squeezing her hand. "You deserve that. All of it."

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment the world narrowed down to just us, two souls quietly healing together.

That night, after the house was quiet and everyone else was asleep, I sat on my bedroom floor with my journal and a pen. I wrote down everything I was feeling-hope, fear, love, and a fragile kind of bravery.

I wrote about how far I'd come from the scared girl who'd been tossed into an orphanage, to the girl loved fiercely by a family she chose.

I wrote about my dreams for the future-of growing stronger, of loving harder, of continuing to fight when it got tough.

I wrote about Mia and Demi, and how their love had become my lifeline.

And I wrote about myself-finally seeing the person I'd always been underneath the pain.

There were still bad days. Days when the synesthesia overwhelmed me, making every touch and emotion feel too much. But Rebecca reminded me that healing wasn't a straight line.

"Some days you'll stumble," she'd say. "But every step forward counts."

I learned to give myself permission to rest, to say no, to breathe.

I learned to recognise the signs-when my senses were flooding me, when anxiety was creeping in-and to reach out for support.

With every session, I felt a little stronger, a little more in control.

Demi's family had become mine too-warm, messy, full of laughter and love. Liam, with his goofy grin and endless patience, always made me feel included. The kids adored Mia and me, and the house was never quiet, but always filled with life.

One evening, I watched Demi and Mia dancing around the kitchen, laughter ringing through the air. I felt so full, so grateful.

This was the life I'd fought for-the family I'd dreamed about.

I thought back to the nights I'd spent questioning if I was worthy of love. The moments I'd doubted myself, afraid to be seen.

But here, in the warmth of this family, I found something new.

Strength. Hope. A love that refused to let me fall.

Mia's hand in mine, Demi's steady presence beside me-they were proof that I was not alone.

As I lay in bed that night, my heart full and my mind quieter than it had been in years, I made a promise to myself.

To keep fighting.

To keep loving.

To keep believing in the person I was becoming.

Because this was just the beginning.

I was no longer defined by my condition or my past.

I was defined by love.

By courage.

By the family I chose.

And I was finally home.