“The walls he’d built to survive were gone, and the ground beneath him no longer followed the rules he knew.”

His hands braced instinctively, grounding him against a world that suddenly felt unrecognizable—lighter, yes, but terrifyingly new. The walls he’d built to survive were gone, and the ground beneath him no longer followed the rules he knew. He felt his fragmented soul floating just above them in the kitchen, and for a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. It felt impossible—the barriers gone, the weight gone—and for a moment he could do nothing but shake and gasp in the vacuum it left behind, while his heart lifted. Until it was real. The board was cleared. “It didn’t make sense—me being with him while wanting more of you every day,” she confessed tearfully.