The next morning feels different. Lighter. The air has that crisp freshness that comes after a long storm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I wake up with a sense of... calm.
Not everything is fixed, not by a long shot, but something shifted last night. Burning that journal, writing everything out, screaming until my lungs burned—it was like letting go of a piece of the past that I’d been clinging to for too long. I can breathe again, even if there’s still a lot left to untangle.
I roll out of bed and stretch, feeling the sunlight streaming through the window. The house is quiet, the kind of stillness that used to feel heavy, but today it feels peaceful. I know Pops is probably out in the garden already, and Nanna is likely finishing breakfast. The thought makes me smil
