“I’m sorry,” he slurped, the words thick in his mouth. “I was blind. I was cruel. I think about that night every time it rains.”
I sat in the plastic chair and looked at him. I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel love. I felt… lightness.
“I forgive you,” I said.
His shoulders sagged with relief.
“But understand this,” I continued, my voice steady. “Forgiveness doesn’t mean access. I have built a beautiful life without you. I am happy. I am safe. I am marrying a man who would never throw me out in a drizzle, let alone a hurricane.”
He nodded, tears streaming.
