Mon histoire

Previously

…Now, it was her turn. The words felt heavy on her tongue, like stones she had carried for too long, each one a small, sharp reminder of battles fought and wounds that hadn’t quite healed. She looked at him, at the kindness etched into the lines around his eyes, the steady patience in his posture. He offered no judgment, only an open space for her truth. “There was… someone,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, a tremor running through it like a delicate thread about to snap. She paused, gathering her courage, the image of a past betrayal flashing behind her eyes. It was a memory she had carefully walled off, a garden