“You know?”
“I know you’re sorry,” I said. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
My pen hovered over the line.
He whispered, “Then—”
I cut in gently. “But I can’t live on intention, Mike. I have to live on reality.”
And I signed.
My hand didn’t shake.
Not because I wasn’t sad.
But because something in me finally felt… aligned.
Like my body and my truth were in the continue reading …