Hazel had started school and insisted on showing me every star her teacher drew on a page.

Her cardiology team still monitored her health, but she had a full life that belonged to her, not to the condition she’d survived.

Megan had built a career in accounting and moved into a home she chose and managed herself.

She and I shared parenting responsibilities through an arrangement that worked because we respected it.

We were not married.

We did not pretend the past had been harmless.

We also did not ask our children to carry our bitterness.