Chapter: Something New in My Chest

I carried the letter with me all day. Not in my bag, not tucked between the pages of a book. I carried it in my chest. In that corner where it used to hurt to breathe, and now something was beginning to bloom.

I didn't tell anyone. Not the girls, not Marcos. It was my moment. My secret. Like a hidden jewel that's not meant to be shown just yet. The letter didn't ask to be shared, it asked to be understood. And I... I was still processing it.

I went for a walk in the park after lunch. The trees were starting to fill with green leaves, still shy, but present. Like me. A little boy ran past with a kite, laughing so loudly that his laughter reached me and pulled a smile from me. It wasn't because of Tom. It wasn't for anyone. It was mine.

I sat on a bench and took out a notebook. It had been a long time since I wrote without it being an act of survival. I started with one sentence:

"Today I didn't cry for you. And that doesn't make me less yours. It makes me more mine."

I kept writing. Not about the letter. Not about him. About me. About what I'm feeling. About the fear of letting go and the longing to live again.

When I finished, I closed the notebook with a sigh. I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes. The wind touched my face gently, and in that moment, I knew something had shifted.

Not everything. Not completely. But something.

And that something, no matter how small, felt like hope.