Josh and I sat in my car for a long time. Neither of us spoke.
The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink — the same colors Josh used in his paintings.
I wondered if he still painted. Although we’d been separated for a short time, it felt like we had lost years… memories, moments, and pieces of each other we could never get back.
Finally, I turned to him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Josh swallowed, his voice rough.
“You don’t have to be.”
I shook my head. “I do. I let her manipulate me.
Again. Just like she always has.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you still love me?” he then asked, shattering the stillness around us and in my heart.
Tears burned my eyes.
“Yes.”
His breath hitched. “Then let’s fix this. Together.”
I nodded, gripping his hand like a lifeline.
Because the truth was, I had lost my mother that day. But maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t lost my husband.
This morning, I stood in our shared apartment, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and the smell of fresh paint. Josh’s easel sat by the window — he’d started painting again, filling our space with colors and light.
“Look what I found,” he called from across the room.
I turned to see him holding an old photograph.
Us at 18, covered in paint after an impromptu art room session. My mother had hated that photo… said it was “undignified.”
“We were happy,” I said softly.
Josh set the photo down and hugged me. “We still are.”
I leaned into him, breathing in the familiar scent of paint and coffee.
“I got another message from her today.”
“And?”
“I didn’t read it.” I closed my eyes. “Some bridges stay burned.”
He kissed my temple. “Are you okay?”
I thought about the girl in that old photograph.
About the woman who let her mother’s fears become her own. About the person I was becoming now… stronger, freer, and truly loved.
“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”
Because sometimes the hardest choices lead us home.
Sometimes letting go of the past means finding your future. And sometimes, the family you choose becomes the family you were always meant to have.
Josh and I might not have had the perfect wedding, or the perfect start. But we had something better… the truth.
And in the end, that was all we needed. That, and each other.
Source: amomama
