Eight months later.
I say it quietly in my head sometimes, like I’m testing whether it still sounds real.
Eight months since everything ended.
Eight months since Ethan signed the papers without fighting me. Without dragging things out. Without begging again.
Just… signed.
Clean. Efficient. Like he signs contracts every day.
Sometimes I wonder if that was mercy.
Sometimes I wonder if he was just tired.
⸻
The café smells like cinnamon and coffee and new books.
That part still makes me smile.
I unlock the doors every morning before anyone else arrives, even though I don’t have to anymore. We have staff now. Real staff. Schedules. Payroll. Inventory meetings.
Things I used to Google at 2 a.m. because I didn’t know what I was doing.
Now the space is twice as big.
We knocked down t
