His expression softened. “I know.”
He kissed my forehead, and I let it go.
I let a lot of things go—vague answers about past relationships, his lack of family, his childhood.
After four months, he proposed over dinner at a restaurant. I looked at him—the man who had gently stepped into the life I had rebuilt from grief and routine—and I said yes.
For the first time in years, I believed I could have everything.