The letters stayed with me longer than I expected. Even after I tucked them away again, the words echoed. They weren’t loud. They just lingered in a way that made silence feel fuller. Some parts of myself I had buried came back up like softened thread rising through water. I wasn’t ready to speak them aloud yet, but I no longer flinched when I thought about them. That alone felt like progress.

Julian didn’t ask about the letter he read. He didn’t apologize either. He just made dinner ...