Once the idea settled in my mind, it refused to leave.
I didn’t feel giddy or triumphant. What I felt was calm. The kind of calm that comes when a long-unanswered question finally has a response. For years, I had swallowed my anger, convinced myself I was “over it,” told myself that adulthood meant letting go.
She hadn’t changed at all.
So why, I wondered, was I still expected to be the bigger person?
I spent the next few days researching quietly. Carefully. I learned that in my state, the release of native butterflies was perfectly legal when done responsibly. There were licensed companies that provided them for special occasions. Weddings. Memorials. Celebrations meant to symbolize transformation and beauty.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
One company stood out. They offered a presentation box designed to be opened indoors for a “magical reveal.” The butterflies would emerge slowly, fluttering upward in a gentle display.
I placed my order.
Two hundred butterflies.
I paid extra to ensure the delivery happened the night Nancy and my brother returned home after the wedding. I also paid for a recorded delivery, under the guise of capturing a “surprise reaction.” The woman on the phone assured me they handled these requests all the time.
