I looked at the man who had lost donors, contracts, and friendships, and who had never once behaved as though I owed him for any of it.

I tore the papers in half.

“The first time I married you, it was to protect my daughters,” I said. “This time I want to stay because I love you.”

A single tear went down his face.

Months later we held a small wedding beside the water in Mystic. Olivia carried the rings. Grace sang. Lily, fully recovered, scattered white petals down the aisle.

Evelyn cried through the whole service, and Sister Julia gave us a simple blessing.