It showed our family standing in front of the house. The roof was bright red, the windows were crooked, and everyone had enormous smiles.
I sat on the floor and laughed through my tears.
Then I framed the drawing and hung it in the hallway beside the wedding photograph.
Not because I wanted to pretend that our family had never changed.
But because those memories still belonged to me.
Tyler’s betrayal could not erase the good years.
Rachel’s arrival could not erase the sacrifices we had made for our children.
And the end of my marriage did not mean that the life I had lived was a lie.
It meant that one chapter had ended, and I had to decide how the next one would begin.
I was still making those decisions.
Some days were harder than others.
There were mornings when I woke up angry. There were evenings when the silence felt unbearable. Occasionally, I still caught myself reaching for my phone to tell Tyler something funny that had happened during the day.
