Chapter 9 - The Ghost of the Past
Five years passed since the night the elevator doors closed on my marriage.
I was in Portland for a non-profit housing conference, a quiet life that finally felt authentic.
While walking through a crowded farmer's market, the scent of fresh rosemary and lemon caught my attention.
I turned the corner and froze, staring at a bustling bakery stall with a familiar sign.
Rebecca was arranging pastries, looking older, more radiant, and beautifully content.
Next to her was Ethan, holding a toddler who possessed Rebecca’s eyes and a joyful, messy smile.
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My breath caught in my throat, a bittersweet mixture of profound sorrow and genuine relief washing over me.
She looked up, our eyes met across the crowded market, and time seemed to stand completely still.
