As the fire consumed the remnants of my broken marriage, I threw a sealed letter into the flames—one meant for my ex-husband. But just before it burned away, a glimpse of my own name stopped me cold. With trembling hands, I pulled it back from the fire… and what I read inside nearly destroyed me.
I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of my living room, the crackle of the fireplace filling the silence. The flames licked at the air, glowing orange and gold, devouring every photograph, card, and letter I fed them. They warmed my knees, but my heart remained untouched, frozen behind walls I wasn’t sure would ever come down again.
All around me, boxes were spread open like wounds—albums, mementos, scraps of a life I’d once believed would last forever. A life with Michael.
