Five years is long enough to build a life.
Not the life you planned. Not the one you imagined when you were young and certain about the shape of your future. But a real life with weight to it, with daily rhythms and small joys and the particular kind of strength that only comes from having no other choice but to keep going.
Ashveil became home the way places become home when you stop waiting to leave them. Slowly and without announcement. One morning I woke up and knew which floorboard creaked outside Eli's room without having to think about it. I knew that the baker two streets over put out fresh bread at six in the morning and that if you arrived at six fifteen it was already half gone. I knew which of Clara's patients needed a firm hand and which needed a quiet voice and I knew the di
