Laura
I wasn’t asleep when David kissed my cheek last night. His touch, tentative yet lingering, had woken me, but I kept my eyes closed, unsure how to respond. His whispered plea—“Please, don’t talk about divorce anymore”—lingered in my mind, wrapping itself around the walls I’d carefully built over the past few months.
For the first time in what felt like forever, something in his voice sounded raw, almost desperate. It wasn’t love—I wasn’t naive enough to believe that—but it was something. Enough to make me wonder if giving this marriage a second chance was even worth considering. My heart ached for what could have been, for the promises that had crumbled under the weight of reality. But as much as I wanted to ignore the bitterness, it clung to me, a constant reminder of all that had
