She nods. “I’m still going through it. Not sure it’ll ever end, really.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s okay, Jessa. I know you didn’t mean it that way.”
Her voice is soft. Melancholy. Like she’s thinking of an alternate reality. One where she was happy with her ex. Where they had a baby they could raise together. Where the bruises never came in the first place.
Looking at Freya feels a little bit like looking at a mirror. She looks the way I feel inside, trying to bat away my own alternative reality.
One that includes Anton. A shared home. A family.
“We’re both strong women,” I say, mostly for myself. “We can get through this.”
But even as I say it, another bout of dizziness has me gripping the edges of the bench so hard that they leave indentations in my skin.
I open
