Ethan
The party is slowly winding down, not all at once. Like a candle slowly burning out, leaving a trail of warm light, soft laughter, and conversations that linger unhurriedly.
And I'm there, in the middle of it all. But this time… present.
Truly.
I look around at the people who are still there. My mother chatting with Clara's mother, some friends toasting one last time. Tired faces… but happy, and then I look at her.
At Clara, my wife, my wife.
The word still feels new, but not strange, it feels… right.
She's laughing with someone, the bouquet already a little disheveled in her hands, a few loose strands escaping her updo. And I think something I didn't expect to think.
This… This is home, not the place, not the walls, not the house. But this, her, us.
What we're starting to
