By the time the clock struck nine, my phone buzzed on the countertop, pulling me out of my reverie. It was him. A text message, simple and unadorned: “I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

As I picked up my phone, I realized that the path forward was unchartered, but not impossible. The conversation we needed to have was long overdue, and while it wouldn’t erase the past, it offered a chance to build a future on firmer ground—one where laughter was genuine and words were chosen with care. The shift had begun.