Eventually Wyatt said, “I don’t want to keep his picture on my desk right now.”

“Then don’t.

You can decide again later.”

That night I took Robert’s framed photograph off my mantel.

I didn’t destroy it.

I put it in a box.

It wasn’t forgiveness or punishment.

It was the first time I’d admitted that the story I’d built around my marriage was no longer one I could live inside.