“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go home.”
Part 10 — One Year Later, I Finally Understood What Love Meant
A year has passed since the morning my mother called and told me not to open my door.
Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago.
Other times, I can still hear the fear in her voice.
I still remember running down the service stairs, clutching my torn wedding dress.
I remember the security footage.
The cold expression on Derek’s face.
The sound of my apartment door being forced open.
And the terrible realization that the man I trusted had become someone I needed protection from.
The months afterward were not easy.
There were interviews with investigators.
Meetings with attorneys.
Financial audits.
Court proceedings.
There were also nights when I woke from nightmares, convinced that someone was standing outside my bedroom.
Healing did not happen simply because the immediate danger had passed.
I needed time.
