There was a knock at the door in this evening.
I thought I was dreaming at first. Suzie stood there, clutching a small gift bag, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
She’d left to protect the twins and to escape the spiral of self-loathing and despair. Therapy had helped her rebuild, one painstaking step at a time.
“I didn’t want to leave,”
“But I didn’t know how to stay.”
I took her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
And we did. It wasn’t easy — healing never is.
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