they all were, how carefully Madison smiled while waiting for me to fold.

What stays with me most is not their anger.

It’s the shock.

The pure disbelief that the person they had relied on most had a breaking point at all.

I used to think the saddest part of the story was how long it took me to reach mine.

It isn’t.

The saddest part is that the first time I truly felt at home in my own life was the moment I closed the front door behind them.

And the question I still carry is one I suspect anyone who has ever been called selfish for finally choosing peace will understand:

If love only survives when one person stays small, was it ever love at all?