The judge looked up when that line was read.
Lauren did too.
She cried.
I did not.
Not because I was stronger.
Because I was empty by then.
Recovery did not look like a movie.
There was no single moment where we all stood in sunlight and became fine.
It looked like Daniel replacing every detector in the house, even the ones that did not need replacing.
It looked like Chloe sleeping in our room for three weeks.
It looked like me throwing away every cinnamon plug-in, candle, spray, and holiday sachet in the house.
It looked like installing cameras we did not joke about.
It looked like therapy on Thursdays and silent drives home after.
It looked like Daniel telling me uncomfortable things before they became secrets.
It looked like me learning not to punish him for telling the truth late when he was finally telling it at all.
