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The Fortress at the Graveside

by

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Ezoic

I scrolled social media one night and regretted it instantly.

There they were. Vanessa and Darren. Sunlit. Smiling. Cabo beaches. A new ring flashing on her hand. A caption about soulmates and blessings.

I stared at my phone while rain tapped against the window and something inside me hardened.

Ezoic

At work, I was efficient. Quiet. Invisible.

Until someone noticed.

Ruth from finance stopped me one Friday evening, her eyes kind but direct. She told me I looked like someone carrying too much alone. She bought me a drink. Then another.

Ezoic

When I finally cried, it wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet. Controlled. Years of restraint finding a crack.

She handed me a business card.

“Even warriors need medics,” she said.

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