Refrigerator Light, Second Chances

The first time I saw him again, my heart forgot how to beat. Years of anger, rehearsed speeches, and carefully folded grief collapsed in a single flick of refrigerator light. He stood there with milk, eggs, and a shaking apology, like he’d slipped in through the cracks of an ordinary Tuesday. I should have screamed. Instead, I listened. That choice changed eve… Continues…

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