I had remembered her laughter, her beauty, and the dreams we had shared beneath the oak tree.
But I had not known the fear that followed her into adulthood.
I had not known the strength it took to wake up every morning and continue living a life that had become a prison.
I had not known how many times she had needed someone to tell her that she was not to blame.
The thought that I had been unable to help her hurt.
But another thought slowly took its place.
I could not change what had happened to Anna before we found each other again.
I could not return her youth, erase her scars, or give her back the years she had lost.
But I could make sure that the years ahead did not have to look like the years behind her.
And that was a beginning.
The days after our wedding were quieter than I had expected.
