After they left, I studied the room again. My favorite chair now faced the window, inviting morning light. A forgotten hobby — my knitting basket — sat open, as though encouraging me to begin again.
Suddenly, I realized these weren’t signs of intrusion but reminders of what I had set aside. My life had become silent, not unsafe — simply waiting for me to return to it. Instead of fear, I felt a spark of gratitude.Continue reading…
