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Rowan eventually moved into her own place.
She started therapy. Took a solo trip to Colorado. And one night, over coffee in my kitchen, she said, “I don’t know what’s next, but at least I know who I am again.”
“You always did,” I said.
“You just forgot for a little while.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed we were going to be okay.
If this happened to you, what would you do? We’d love to hear your thoughts in the Facebook comments.
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