My therapist asks me the question three weeks before the wedding.
"Have you forgiven Ethan?"
We're in her office, the same one I've been coming to for eighteen months now. Dr. Sarah Chen, trauma specialist, the woman who helped me understand that surviving isn't the same as healing.
"I thought I had," I say, curling into the oversized chair she keeps for clients who need to feel small sometimes. "I forgave Victoria. I made peace with Layla. I moved on with my life. Isn't that forgiveness?"
"Is it?" She doesn't answer questions directly, which used to annoy me but now I appreciate. "What does forgiveness mean to you?"
"I don't know anymore." The admission feels heavy. "I thought it meant not being angry. Not wanting revenge. Being indifferent to whether he suffers or thrives. And I've
