Ace
The routine we had fallen into felt comfortable, a steady rhythm of shared meals and hushed conversations. Her apartment, once a symbol of her troubled marriage, was slowly transforming under her touch, becoming a space that truly reflected her. I watched her, meticulously picking out items to discard, each throwaway piece a physical manifestation of her shedding the past. Her laughter, once a fragile thing, now echoed more freely, particularly when she regaled me with tales of her favorite book boyfriends or recounted the latest Hamilton soundtrack obsession.
I found myself equally eager to share my own life, my children a constant presence in my thoughts, even if they were physically absent. I spoke of Maddox, his passion for comics and anime, his nascent talent in the kitchen. I
