Two months later, we’re in couples counseling. He still goes to his group; I still go to mine. Every morning, he takes Lily first, presses his cheek to hers, breathes in that warm milk scent, and looks at her fully—love unshadowed. Nightmares come less often, and when they do, he wakes me, and we walk the hallway together under the soft glow of a nightlight.
We didn’t get a glossy first chapter. We got a hard one. But the pages after are softer. Sometimes the face you can’t bear to meet is the one that leads you back to the life you almost lost. Sometimes the darkest night is just the road between where you were—and where you’re brave enough to go now.
