I hung up and looked out at the skyline. The jagged edges of my history had smoothed down. I wasn’t the girl who was left at the altar anymore. I wasn’t the victim. I was just Rebecca.
Zachary walked in, carrying two mugs of coffee. He saw the look on my face and smiled.
“Good news?”
“Life goes on,” I said. “That’s the news.”
I took the coffee from him, but then set it down. My stomach churned—a familiar, nauseous flutter that had been greeting me every morning for the past three weeks.
“Actually,” I said, reaching for his hand and placing it over my stomach. “Maybe switch this to decaf.”
Zachary froze. His eyes widened, searching mine. “Rebecca? Are you…”
I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. “We finally did it.”
He pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my neck. We stayed like that for a long time, the morning sun flooding the room.
I thought about my mother. I thought about the grief that had hollowed me out and the love that had filled me back up. I thought about Stephanie, starting over in a one-bedroom apartment.
Forgiveness hadn’t fixed everything. It hadn’t erased the scars. But Mother was right. It hadn’t been for them. It was for me. It was the key that unlocked the cage, allowing me to finally, truly, step into the light.