The decision didn’t come in one big dramatic moment. It came after three long nights of lying on Sofia’s couch, staring at the ceiling, replaying Damien’s voice note until I could hear it in my sleep.
It came after Sofia sat me down with bad coffee and said, “You’re allowed to miss him, you’re allowed to love someone who’s broken but you’re just not allowed to lose yourself while doing it.”
The decision was finally clear to me after I caught myself touching the faint bruises on my thighs and realizing I missed the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
I gathered the courage to finally say it on a quiet Thursday evening, while I was helping Sofia fold laundry again.
“I think I’m ready,” I said suddenly.
Sofia paused mid-fold, holding one of her shirts. “Ready f
