Chapter 10 - The Horizon
As evening fell, the guests drifted out into the warm summer night, saying their goodbyes with hugs and laughter.
Lily had finally fallen asleep on the living room sofa, curled up with her stuffed rabbit under a handmade quilt, the star projector painting soft constellations across the ceiling above her.
I walked out onto the front porch, pulling a light cardigan around my shoulders, and leaned against the wooden railing.
The air was warm and smelled of cut grass and blooming jasmine from the neighbor’s garden. Down the street, children were riding their bicycles past the streetlamps, their voices echoing in the quiet twilight.
I looked down at my hands resting on the railing. The shaking had stopped months ago. The fear that had paralyzed me during those dark hospital nights had been forged into something unyielding—a quiet, unbreakable resilience.
They thought breaking our home would break us.
Instead, it had forced us to find our true strength.
May you like
I looked up at the stars twinkling in the vast summer sky, took a deep, steady breath of the evening air, and smiled.
The storm was over. We had won.
