The realization didn’t arrive all at once.
It unfolded gradually, in the way my days had learned to do lately—without spectacle, without urgency, without the sharp intake of breath that used to accompany moments of clarity. It came to me in fragments. In how my body moved through the house without hesitation. In how silence no longer felt like something I needed to fill or defend against. In how Ray’s presence had stopped feeling like something I needed to interpret.
It simply was.
One morning, I woke before him again. That pattern hadn’t changed. What had changed was what followed.
I didn’t lie there cataloging sensations or checking for emotional aftershocks. I didn’t brace for the familiar slide into doubt. I just… lay there. Aware of the warmth beside me, the steady rhythm of his b
