Eventually, months later, Sofia started rebuilding her life.
She moved out of her old place, needing a change, and into a small apartment downtown.
She took a new job at a nonprofit where no one knew her story.
Sofia also cut her hair and adopted a cat.
She told herself she was moving on, even when the ache still hovered behind her ribs.
But the truth would not stay buried for long.
It was a random Thursday evening, nearly a year after the wedding that never was, when Sofia stopped at the grocery store after work.
She was standing in the dairy aisle, debating between almond and oat milk, when she heard someone say her name.
“Sofia?”
She turned, confused, and saw a woman in a navy blazer with a plastic name tag pinned to it.
