Epilogue: Silence That Sounded Like Mine
A year after my husband broke my arm, I moved into a smaller apartment with sunlight in the kitchen and a deadbolt I chose myself.
That first night, I unpacked one box, ordered Chinese food, and sat on the floor because I hadn’t bought a couch yet.
Around midnight, I walked into the bathroom.
I closed the door.
Then I locked it.
Not because anyone was outside.
Not because I was hiding.
Just because I could.
I stood there for a moment with my hand on the lock, listening to the quiet.
And for the first time in years, silence sounded like mine.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
