family together with my bare hands.
That silence remains the part I struggle to forgive myself for.
Three months passed faster than expected.
I paid attention to Brandon from a distance.
Megan’s name disappeared from the office calendar his receptionist kept visible.
When I eventually returned the signed insurance form two weeks after the parking-lot incident, Brandon couldn’t meet my eyes.
He took the folder, muttered, “Thanks,” and shut his office door.
I told myself that was progress.
Maybe people really could stop.
The final weeks before the wedding became
