I placed it there.
Not burning.
Not hidden.
Not thrown away.
Simply sitting exactly where Amelia had decided it belonged.
My phone vibrated.
Ryan.
I expected an angry message.
Instead, he wrote:
“Tell Amelia I’m sorry I made her feel like she had to pretend she was okay.”
A second message appeared a moment later.
“And Annie… I think I’ve spent a long time expecting everyone else to accept decisions that I made.”
I read it twice.
Then I locked my phone.
I didn’t owe Ryan a response.
Across the kitchen, Amelia reached over and stole another fry.
“AMELIA!” her brother shouted.
“They were on my side!”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
My four children argued around the kitchen table while that little white wedding candle sat quietly on the windowsill.
Ryan had changed the shape of our family.
But he had never earned the right to decide whether that family still existed.
