When the Light Returned

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“Our life,” he corrected softly, tightening his arms around her waist.
“I don’t want any of it without you in it.”

She felt the truth settle in her chest—warm, steady, certain.

Micah reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
Her handwriting.

The letter she’d once mailed from the mountains:

> We aren’t paused—we’re becoming.

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