Jean remembered the sterile white walls of her parents' house. The shouting. The betrayal. The way they told her she had "no future" if she didn't listen to them.
No one held her hand when they took it away.
Not even her mother.
Jean shut her eyes, willing the memory to stop.
It was years ago. It's over. You're over it.
That's what she told herself.
But if it was truly over, why did she feel like crumbling every time she saw a woman glowing with the very thing she'd lost?
A soft vibration broke her spiral… her phone, buzzing again with notifications. Jean picked it up only to see more headlines and messages from people she didn't care to reply to. But one caught her attention… a message from Emma.
EMMA: "Sorry about the drama, but seriously… you killed it last night. Defensive wife mode suits you. Proud of you, babe. You've got the world believing it's real. Keep going."
Jean tossed the phone aside.
Keep going.
As if it was that simple.
