My hands don’t braid hair the way they used to, and my knees ache when the weather turns mean.
But I was proud of the life I’d built. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But every scar, every wrinkle, every night I stayed up worrying was for the people I loved.
And when you’ve given that much of yourself, betrayal doesn’t just sting… it carves straight into the bone.
