One afternoon, on my way home, a message came from my husband’s old number.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.
I only want you to know that my father did something he had never done before.
He chose a life over his own family.”
I didn’t reply.
I looked up at the sky. The sunlight was soft. The air calm.
For the first time in years, I felt truly alive.
Not everyone born into darkness chooses evil.
And not all escape is cowardice.
Sometimes, leaving is the only way to survive—
and the only way the truth can finally breathe.
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