Chapter 10
The wedding was small.
Just family and close friends.
We got married in the backyard of our house.
The same house where Diane had broken my leg.
The same house that had once felt like a prison.
But now it felt like home.
Dad walked me down the aisle.
He was crying.
So was I.
Sarah was my maid of honor.
She looked beautiful.
Ryan stood at the altar, waiting for me.
He looked nervous.
And happy.
So happy.
The ceremony was short.
We wrote our own vows.
Ryan promised to always protect me.
To always stand up for me.
To never let anyone hurt me again.
I promised to love him.
To support him.
To grow old with him.
When the judge pronounced us husband and wife, Ryan kissed me.
And the whole world fell away.
It was just us.
Two people who had been through hell and back.
Who had fought for each other.
And for their love.
The reception was in the backyard too.
We ate, drank, danced.
Dad gave a speech that made everyone cry.
Sarah gave a speech that made everyone laugh.
Ryan's aunt Linda was there.
She'd become a good friend.
She told me she was proud of us.
That Diane would never be able to hurt us again.
It was perfect.
Not the fairy tale wedding I'd dreamed of when I was younger.
But better.
Because it was real.
Because we'd earned it.
That night, after everyone had left, Ryan and I stood in the kitchen.
The same kitchen where everything had happened.
Ryan wrapped his arms around me from behind.
He rested his chin on my shoulder.
"Are you happy?" he whispered.
I leaned back against him.
"So happy."
"Do you ever think about it?" he asked. "About that night?"
I thought about it.
"Sometimes," I said. "But not in the way I used to. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's just... part of our story. The part that made us stronger."
Ryan kissed my neck.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too."
Life went on.
The support group continued to grow.
Sarah and I started a nonprofit.
We called it "Stand Strong."
We helped women all over the state.
We provided legal assistance.
Counseling.
Safe housing.
We spoke at conferences.
We testified before the state legislature about stronger protections for victims of domestic violence.
We made a difference.
Ryan was my biggest supporter.
He helped us with the nonprofit.
He used his business skills to help us get funding.
To organize events.
To spread the word.
He was proud of me.
And I was proud of him.
A year after the wedding, I found out I was pregnant.
We were both overjoyed.
And terrified.
We talked about what kind of parents we wanted to be.
We promised each other that our child would grow up in a home filled with love and respect.
That they would never have to walk on eggshells.
Never have to feel afraid.
Never have to choose between the people they loved.
When our daughter was born, we named her Sarah.
After the woman who had become my sister.
After the woman who had helped us find our way back to each other.
Sarah cried when we told her.
She held little Sarah in her arms and promised to be the best aunt in the world.
And she was.
Life wasn't perfect.
We still had bad days.
Days when the memories came back.
Days when we fought.
Days when parenthood felt overwhelming.
But we faced it together.
As a team.
Two years after Diane went to prison, we got a letter.
From her.
Ryan didn't want to open it.
But I did.
I wanted to know what she had to say.
We read it together.
It was full of excuses.
Blame.
She said we'd ruined her life.
That we'd manipulated the court.
That she was innocent.
There was no remorse.
No apology.
Just anger.
Ryan crumpled the letter up and threw it in the trash.
"I don't want anything from her," he said. "Ever."
I nodded.
I felt the same way.
Diane was a part of our past.
And she was going to stay there.
A year later, Diane was released from prison.
She'd served two years of her sentence for good behavior.
We were prepared.
The restraining order was still in place.
We'd talked to the police.
We had a security system installed in the house.
We were ready.
But she never came.
We heard through Linda that she'd moved to another state.
That she was living with a distant cousin.
That she hadn't mentioned Ryan or me once.
She was gone.
Truly gone.
And I felt... nothing.
No fear.
No anger.
Just peace.
May you like
She couldn't hurt us anymore.
We were safe.
