My Light Always Returns
As she stepped away from the stage, a woman in worn clothes came toward her, tears running down her face.
“Because of your story,” she whispered, “I finally found the courage to leave my husband.”
Aracely held her, tightly, for a long moment.
Because her own story had not really begun in the shadows of that ballroom, and it had not begun with a necklace or a name.
It had begun the moment she stopped believing she needed anyone’s permission to stand in the light.
THE END.
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