I’m not sure what the next step looks like.We steal kisses here and there when Mila isn’t around.We don’t want to confuse her.All I know is this: I want him.I am falling in love with the man who walked into my life with his guarded heart and his impossible loyalty.
The question is no longer if.
It’sWhat am I going to do next?
Courtney studies me for a moment, her expression calm in a way I both resent and rely on.“Mara,” she says softly, “you’re carrying a lot.Anyone sitting in your chair would feel overwhelmed.But you don’t have to confront everything at once.Healing doesn’t have to be linear.It’s not an all-or-nothing leap.”
I swallow hard, waiting for her to keep going because, for once, I actually need the guidance.
“One place to start,” she continues, “is giving yourself permission to approach each thing at your own pace.Not the pace you think you should be moving at, not the pace others expect, but the one that lets your body and mind stay present without shutting down.That means identifying which part feels least frightening to explore first.”
I nod slowly, even though I don’t know where any of those starting points live.
“You mentioned anger,” she says, “and confusion.Before confrontation comes clarity.I’d like you to try naming the exact fear beneath each emotion.Write them down—not to solve them all at once, but to see them outside of yourself.Sometimes putting them on the page is the first step toward loosening their hold.
“And when you’re ready to address the people connected to those fears,” she goes on, “you don’t have to meet them face-to-face immediately.Letters can help you prepare for conversations that feel too large in the moment.You can write to your mother without sending anything yet.You can write to your biological father.As I just mentioned, you can even write to Sam and Lina, not because they’ll read them, but because you need somewhere to put the thoughts that have nowhere else to go.”
I wipe my palm against my jeans, grounding myself in the movement.
“Another option,” she adds gently, “is practicing the conversations you’re afraid of.We can role-play them here.You can use this room to say all the things you’ve been silencing for years.Often the fear isn’t the conversation itself—it’s the anticipation.Giving yourself a rehearsal can soften that.”
The idea scares me.But it also feels ...possible.
“And Mara,” she says, leaning in a little, “you’re not doing this alone.You have support.You have Alec.You have your friends.You have me.The next step isn’t about being brave all at once.It’s about taking one long, deep breath at a time and letting yourself feel something without running from it.”
“I can do that,” I say feeling less overwhelmed.
“You don’t have to heal perfectly,” she finishes.“You just have to start.”
I breathe slowly, calming myself enough to meet her gaze again.
“Okay,” I whisper.“I can try that.”
This time though, trying doesn’t terrify me.It almost feels like a beginning.
ChapterFifty-Seven
Samuel,
I’m writingthis because I have nowhere else to put the rage burning through me.
You left without an explanation as to why you’ve withdrawn from this marriage.I asked you a thousand times.I wish you had called this relationship off if you weren’t happy.Maybe you’d still be here.Maybe not together with me, but not gone forever.
Because I can’t deal with this grief.The guilt.I can’t heal or get closure.It feels like you tore open my life and walked away as if none of it mattered.
You knew I was trying.Every day.I kept trying to reach you while you shut me out, while you hid behind silence and excuses and long nights in the other room.
Avoiding our problems wasn’t the solution, Sam.
Do you have any idea what that did to me?What it still does?
I’ve spent nights wondering why I wasn’t enough—if something in me pushed you away, if something in me killed you.
You left me raising Mila alone.
You left me to hold everything together while pretending I wasn’t unraveling.You left me with questions I had no way to answer.And the worst part?You left her.She deserved better.I deserved better too.
I’m furious with you for never trusting me.I’m furious that you walked out as if that was easier than speaking to the woman you married.Easier than fighting for our family.
