My closure had happened at three o’clock in the morning, in an empty hospital hallway, when I made the decision to stop being a person things were done to and start being a person who acted.

It happened when I packed my laptop instead of my wedding album.

It happened when I wrote three words on an envelope and walked out into the dark.

Closure was never going to arrive from Luca’s mouth over coffee, because closure, real closure, is not a gift you receive from the person who harmed you.

It is a thing you build, yourself, out of your own actions, in the moment you stop letting them define what you are worth.

I had built mine already.