They Called Me a Saint—Then Her Phone Exposed Who I Really Was

back to me, voice low and sharp.

“You’re going to regret this,” she said.

I felt something settle in my chest.

Not fear.

Clarity.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I won’t regret living again.”

I stood, put cash down for my coffee, and looked at her one last time.

“I hope you find support,” I said. “I really do. But it can’t be built on my guilt.”

Then I walked out.

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