Freedom didn't feel like fireworks.
It felt like double-checking every lock before bed.
Like flinching when someone knocked too hard.
Like apologizing for taking up space in her own apartment.
---
“It's normal," the counselor said gently. “You were conditioned to disappear."
Christina sat on the couch, legs folded, hands tight in her lap.
“I thought leaving would fix everything."
“Leaving creates space. Healing fills it—slowly."
She nodded, eyes downcast. “Some days I still feel... watched."
“You were. For a long time."
Christina exhaled. “So now what?"
“You live," the counselor said. “Messily. Quietly. Loudly. However you need."
---
Felix didn't hover.
He knocked before entering.
Never brought flowers—only groceries and sunlight.
“I found your favorite noodles," he said o
