Ethan and I celebrated our first anniversary on the deck of a small rental near the water, his mother laughing at the head of the table. I wore the medals to my next ceremony because they were mine, and I stopped explaining them to anyone.
Julian wrote me a short, unpolished letter that asked for nothing. I answered kindly and did not rush. I learned that love should never arrive as an invoice, and that peace is not what you win from people who hurt you. It is what remains when you stop paying them.
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