But she also laughed again.
Went to therapy.
Started painting.
Adopted an elderly rescue dog named Winston because, according to her, “He distrusts everyone, so we have the same personality now.”
Alex and Sophie rebuilt their relationship slowly.
No dramatic reconciliation.
No pretending ten years could be erased.
Sunday lunches.
Coffee.
Awkward conversations.
Arguments.
Honesty.
Real things.
Alex apologized more than once.
Sophie never told him everything was forgiven.
He never demanded that she should.
As for Alex and me, that was more complicated.
One evening, almost a year after the wedding, we stood on my balcony drinking coffee.
“You still hate me?” he asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Fair.”
“I also understand why you did it.”
He looked at me.
“That doesn't mean I forgive the way you did it.”
“I know.”
I smiled slightly.
“You've finally learned when saying that is appropriate.”
He laughed.
I hadn't heard that laugh in years.
