Fantasies fade. They always do. The shine dulls, the faults surface, and you're left with the real. The bitter. The breathless. The broken. But I am not your fear. I am not the mistake you rehearse when you're looking for someone to blame. I am the one who chose to change.

When the storm comes, it doesn’t come to destroy you. It comes to strip away the lies, the fear, the things you clung to out of habit, not love. This spread tells me: I’ve survived the collapse, and now I rise slower, softer, smarter. The past is waving goodbye, and I’m learning to say thank you and move forward.