A Husband’s Vow
Arthur knelt before her, his sixty-five-year-old hands trembling as they reached for hers. He kissed the scars gently, one by one, as if each were a word in a story only he could read.
“Clara,” he said, his voice breaking, “these are not imperfections. They are proof of your strength, of the life you fought to keep. You are more beautiful to me now than ever. And I swear, for as long as I live, you will never hide from me again.”
Clara sobbed, burying her face against his shoulder. For the first time, she felt the weight lift—the fear, the shame, the years of silence.
