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But I don’t wait for it.
I’m dating someone—Mark—kind, with a laugh that feels like space being made. He doesn’t ask about my family. Not yet.
Some ties don’t need explaining.
Some ties don’t need mending.
Every once in a while, I feel that ache of what could have been. If they’d ever seen me as more than spare parts. If love hadn’t come with fine print.
But I don’t regret saying no.
Not anymore.
Because peace, I’ve learned, isn’t given.
It’s built.
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