I was fine, in the realest and least performative way, and I discovered that this — quiet, private, unbothered peace, wanting nothing from anyone who had hurt me, not even their suffering — was the actual victory.

Not his downfall.

My peace.

They were never the same thing.

And I want to press on that, because it is the lesson I most want to leave with anyone who reads this, and it is the one the world teaches us least.

We are told, constantly, in a thousand stories, that the reward for being wronged is the downfall of the person who wronged us — that justice means their suffering, that healing arrives on the day they finally get what they deserve, that we should keep our eyes fixed on their ruin and feel, when it comes, made whole.

And it is a lie.