The months that followed were not perfect. Freedom does not erase grief overnight. Some nights, Margaret sat by the balcony and thought about Emily, about Jack, about the laughter she no longer heard in the morning.

But she also started living. On Tuesdays, she went to book club with Helen. On Wednesdays, she taught other women how to use video calls. On Thursdays, she painted watercolors in the common room.

On Sundays, she walked to the market and bought flowers simply because she liked them.

Her apartment filled with small proofs of return. A lavender plant. A new tablecloth. A painting she’d made herself. Arthur’s photo beside the television.

And a rule written on a card on the refrigerator: My love is not to be used to abuse me.

In spring, Daniel brought Emily and Jack. The children ran to hug her.