—No, sweetheart.
He pointed at me proudly.
—She’s the love of my life.
I felt my cheeks grow warm like a teenage girl again.
Over time, the resentment faded.
Not completely.
Some wounds never disappear entirely.
But people grow tired of carrying anger forever.
Especially when they see happiness is genuine.
One winter night, Manuel and I sat wrapped in blankets watching old photographs.
Young faces.
Lost relatives.
People already gone.
Entire decades trapped inside fading paper.
I found an old picture of us from high school.
I stared at it for a long moment.
We looked ridiculous.
Young.
Skinny.
Certain the world belonged to us.
Manuel leaned closer beside me.
