Chapter 8 - Sunlight and Healing
Time is the only true currency we have for healing.
A year passed since that day in the lawyer's office. The trial was swift and brutal. Darren’s past caught up with him entirely; the embezzlement charges stuck, compounded by the extortion attempt. He was sentenced to five years in federal prison. Melissa divorced him soon after, taking the kids and moving out of state.
My mother avoided jail time due to her age, receiving three years of strict probation and hundreds of hours of community service. The social media backlash she faced when the truth came out was absolute. She became a pariah in her own social circles. She tried to call me a few times from unlisted numbers, crying and begging for forgiveness, but I changed my number and finally, permanently, blocked her out of my life.
You cannot heal in the same environment that broke you. You have to walk away.
It was a Sunday morning in late spring. The house was flooded with golden sunlight, the heavy drapes pulled wide open. Ethan was in the kitchen, humming slightly off-key to a radio playing softly in the background. The smell of fresh coffee and pancakes filled the air.
I walked downstairs, wrapping a thick cardigan around my shoulders. I paused in the hallway, looking at the wall where my shoulder had struck the plaster a year ago. Ethan had patched and repainted it perfectly. There was no scar on the house, and the scar in my mind was fading more every day.
I walked into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, pressing my cheek against his broad back. He chuckled, turning around to pull me into a deep, lingering kiss.
"Morning, beautiful," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "How are you feeling today?"
"Better," I smiled, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate on the counter. "Much better. No morning sickness at all today."
Ethan's eyes softened, dropping down to my stomach, which was just beginning to show a tiny, undeniable swell. He placed his large, warm hand over it, a look of pure wonder on his face.
We had been terrified to try again, terrified of the pain of another loss. But when we saw the little heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor two weeks ago, strong and steady, we knew that we were finally stepping out of the shadows.
"The nursery paint is drying," Ethan said proudly. "I finished the second coat this morning. We went with a soft sage green this time. Very calming."
"I love it," I whispered, leaning my head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart.
We had fought a war for our peace, and we had won. Family, I finally realized, isn't always bound by blood. It isn't defined by the people who demand your loyalty while tearing you down.
May you like
Family is the person who stands between you and the storm. Family is the one who helps you rebuild when the world falls apart.
Family was here, in this house, standing right in front of me. And soon, there would be three of us.
