AFTER THE STORM
275 Words
The ache didn’t leave in a day.
Not in a week. Not even a month.
There were nights she still whispered “oh sugar” into the darkness, missing the warmth of his chicken-soft laugh on the other end. There were songs she couldn't listen to, places she couldn’t visit, dreams she stopped writing down because they once had his name in them.
But healing… came quietly. Like the way morning slips in even while your eyes are still closed.
She started to breathe again. Not just survive, but truly breathe — in laughter with friends, in journaling her pain, in watching the sun rise without needing anyone to hold her hand. She wore her hair how she liked. She took walks without her phone. She even started saving names for her children again — not because someone promised her forever, but because she knew she still had one.
There were still memories.
But they didn’t break her anymore.
She stopped blaming herself.
Stopped waiting for closure.
Stopped rehearsing the things she could have done to keep him.
Because deep inside, she knew — she loved. Fully. Purely. Softly. Bravely.
And that was enough.
Love hadn’t failed her.
He had.
She didn’t stop believing in love. But this time, she chose herself first — her peace, her healing, her voice. And that made all the difference.
Someday, someone might come.
Or maybe not.
But she no longer waited at the door.
She danced in the living room instead.
Not everyone you lose is a loss.
And not every ending is the end.
Sometimes, it’s the beginning —
of becoming everything you were meant to be.
- Writer
