Nora realizes a key principle: she can keep accessing new lives as long as she doesn’t abandon hope that a good one exists. Enjoying a life doesn’t lock her in; she only stays when she can’t imagine a better option. With Mrs Elm’s guidance, she pulls down more books and begins a sweeping tour of possibilities.

She inhabits many versions of herself: a Paris English teacher cycling by the Seine; a yoga teacher; a Sitges lifeguard living with Gabriela; an acclaimed novelist whose meeting implodes over spilled wine; a mother to a sullen teen, Henry; a concert pianist who fades mid-Chopin; an Oxford philosophy lecturer; a travel vlogger; a tabloid columnist covering Ryan Bailey; an eco-architect; an aid worker; and more. The extremes span wealth and poverty, attention and anonymity, health and illness, partnership and solitude.

Between lives, Nora always returns to the library. Transfers grow smoother as acceptance takes hold. She understands she didn’t try to die because of misery alone, but because she believed no escape existed. She distinguishes fear from despair and imagines the cellar door widening; yet the consequence of endless choice is dislocation—every new life broadens her imagination and makes it harder to feel at home. Her name itself starts to feel empty.

In Corsica, Nora shares one last clear exchange with Hugo. He insists, "The fun is in the jumping, mon amie." Nora counters that meaning may lie in landing. As Hugo slips back to his own purgatorial store and forgets her mid-conversation, Nora admits she has forgotten herself too, and fades from that life, resolved that ceaseless leaping is no answer.