Maya'sThe days were beginning to feel different—not necessarily better, but different. There was a softness in the air, in the way the light came through the curtains, and even in the way people moved around the house. It wasn't peace, not yet, but it was close enough to let me breathe without pain.Alex had been consistent. He didn't press or demand. He didn’t try to rewrite the past. Instead, he just showed up—every morning, every night, for our daughter, for me. At first, it felt like a performance, something he would grow tired of. But days turned to weeks, and the performance never stopped. It started to feel real. Real enough to scare me.One evening, Grandma invited me to join her in the garden. The sun was low, golden light bathing the flowers. I sat beside her on the old wooden bench while she pruned the marigolds."You are thinking too much," she said without looking at me.I smiled faintly. "Is that wrong?"She snipped a stem and dropped it into the basket. "Thinking is on
Last Updated : 2025-04-12
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