I found 30 red spots on my husband’s back that looked like insect eggs.

It could have ended differently.
If I hadn’t lifted his shirt that morning.
If I had believed it was “just a rash.”
If love hadn’t been louder than reason.

Now, when I see the faint scars across his back — like constellations mapping everything we’ve survived — I don’t see pain anymore.
I see proof. Proof that kindness is worth fighting for, that honesty still matters, that love can pull you back from even the darkest places.

And every time David holds me close, whispering, “We still have each other,” I know he’s right.

Because true love isn’t tested on the easy days.
It’s in the storms — when you hold on, even as the world tells you to let go.