The lie that he was gone. The lie that I had been left with no choice but to mourn. The lie that I had been abandoned by death when really, I had been abandoned by choice.
Charles wasn’t a hero. Not in his leaving and not in his return.
But he wasn’t a villain either. He was a man. Weak. Flawed. Human.
And Charles?
Well, he’s still learning. Learning how to be present. How to show up. How to stitch something fragile from the wreckage he left behind.
