Chapter 9
Lily and Noah turned two.
They were running everywhere.
Talking constantly.
Getting into everything.
Lily loved books and drawing.
Noah loved climbing and dinosaurs.
They were best friends.
They did everything together.
Watching them, my heart felt so full it might burst.
Ethan and I decided to renew our vows.
Nothing big.
Just us, the kids, and a few close friends.
In our backyard.
Under the old oak tree.
I wore a simple white dress.
Ethan wore a suit.
Lily was the flower girl.
Noah was the ring bearer.
He tried to eat the rings.
Everyone laughed.
As we stood there, looking at each other, Ethan took my hands.
"When I married you the first time," he said, "I thought I knew what love was. But I was wrong. I was a boy who was too scared to stand up for the woman he loved. I let my mother hurt you. I let her poison our marriage. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
He squeezed my hands.
"You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I've ever known. You gave me two beautiful children. You gave me a second chance. And I promise you, from this day forward, I will protect you. I will cherish you. I will love you with everything I have. For the rest of our lives."
I cried.
Happy tears.
"I love you," I said. "And I forgive you. For all of it. We're not those people anymore. We're better. Stronger. Together."
We kissed.
The kids cheered.
Our friends clapped.
It was perfect.
That fall, I started a foundation.
The Lily & Noah Foundation.
We helped women and children escaping domestic abuse.
We provided shelter.
Legal aid.
Counseling.
Job training.
We helped them build new lives.
Just like I had.
Ethan was on the board.
His sister ran the day-to-day operations.
It was our family's mission.
Our way of turning pain into purpose.
We got a letter one day.
It was from the parole board.
Linda was up for early parole.
Good behavior.
I felt sick.
All the old fear came rushing back.
What if she got out?
What if she came after us?
What if she hurt the kids?
Ethan held me.
"She's not getting out," he said. "We'll fight it. We'll testify. We'll do whatever it takes."
And we did.
We wrote letters to the parole board.
We testified over video conference.
We told them about the danger she posed.
About her lack of remorse.
About the threat she still represented to our family.
The parole board denied her request.
She'd have to serve at least another ten years before she could apply again.
Ten years.
Lily and Noah would be twelve.
They'd be safe.
We'd be safe.
I felt like I could breathe again.
That night, I sat on the porch swing with Ethan.
The kids were asleep inside.
The rain was falling softly.
"Do you ever think about what would have happened if..." I trailed off.
"If what?"
"If she'd succeeded. If she'd killed the babies. If she'd..."
Ethan put his arm around me.
"I try not to," he said. "Because it didn't happen. We're here. We're together. We're happy. That's all that matters."
He was right.
The past was the past.
It had shaped us.
Made us stronger.
But it didn't define us.
May you like
Our future was what mattered.
And our future was bright.
