I had loved her.
I still loved her.
But love alone had not made me brave.
The following days became a quiet lesson in showing up.
I helped Linda coordinate appointments. I drove to Sophie’s apartment to collect clothes and discovered how small her new life had become. A one-bedroom unit with moving boxes still stacked against the wall. A plant dying on the windowsill. Bills arranged neatly beside a half-finished cup of tea.
On her nightstand was a framed photo I recognized immediately.
Our wedding day.
Sophie had not removed it.
She had turned it facedown.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the back of the frame.
Then I gently left it exactly as I found it.
In the top drawer, while looking for the charger she had requested, I found a sealed envelope with my name on it.
Ethan.
My heart began to pound.
