Dawson was quiet.
Then he said, “I understand.”
We ended the call, and I went to check on the children.
That was where my attention belonged.
Not on Megan’s excuses.
Not on Ryan’s apologies.
And not on whether either of them regretted losing me.
I had more important things to rebuild.
Six weeks later, Mom came to stay for a weekend.
She had recovered well and was already complaining that I worried too much.
On Saturday morning, she found me sorting through old photographs.
She picked up a picture of Megan and me at our college graduation.
We were young, laughing, and standing with our arms around each other.
“Are you keeping this?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because the friendship was real to me.”
She studied the photograph.
“Even after what she did?”
I smiled sadly.
“I don’t have to pretend those years never happened just because the ending was terrible.”
