One week later, the missed calls on my phone told a story of regret and reflection. Tiffany had reached out, perhaps realizing the weight of the choice she’d made. I sat in my modest new apartment, contemplating whether to return the calls.
I would, eventually, but not today. Today was for rediscovering who I was and who I wanted to be. It was the beginning of a new chapter in a story that was far from over.
