Diane wrote letters from prison.
At first, I threw them away unopened.
Then Marla told me to keep them for documentation.
So I kept them in a box labeled No.
Sophie never saw them.
Ryan received letters too.
He brought one to therapy.
His therapist asked him to read it aloud.
According to Ryan, Diane blamed me, blamed Dad, blamed the court, blamed feminism, blamed everyone except herself.
Then she demanded money.
Ryan did not send any.
That was the first time he had ever denied her.
He told me later during a custody check-in.
“I thought I would feel guilty.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But I also feel free.”
I understood that more than I wanted to.
Sophie began warming to him slowly.
She called him Daddy again after almost a year.
He cried in his car after the visit.
The supervisor told me.
I did not comfort him.
But I was glad for Sophie.
Family did not have to return to what it was.
It could become something safer, smaller, honest.
Ryan would never be my husband again.
But maybe he could become a father who did not fold when love required courage.
Time would decide.
Sophie would decide.
