“I should’ve done it years ago.”
“You’re doing it now,” he replied. “That’s what matters.”
Then he surprised me again.
“When you’re ready,” he said carefully, “you don’t have to stay married to me. I won’t fight you on it.”
I stared at him.
“Then what was the point?”
Peter looked toward the hallway where Jonathan and Lila were laughing over a board game.
“The point,” he said softly, “was making sure you got yourself back.”
Later that evening, I stood outside watching my children run through the backyard while the sun dipped low behind the fence.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel afraid.
I didn’t feel trapped.
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