Daniel barely spoke during that week. Every evening, though, I noticed the same thing. He would pause outside Alyssa’s room and stand there silently for a few moments before going to bed. Twice I caught him crying when he thought nobody was around. I wasn’t happy about it. That’s the thing people misunderstand about boundaries — they think the moment you finally say enough, you feel victorious. You don’t. It feels heavy. Like carrying grief while refusing to put it down because you know setting it aside would destroy you instead.

End of story — Part 3 of 3