Stan was stunned. And even more so when he found out who James was: the divorce lawyer he’d once insulted in court. The same man who exposed Stan’s hidden offshore account. That money? It helped fund our fresh start—new kitchen, and a nonprofit for seniors. Stan apologized. Claimed he never stopped thinking of me. Asked for another chance,

I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. “You only came back because Plan A didn’t work out,” I said. I handed him a motel address and a bit of parting advice: “Try the chicken pot pie. It tastes like regret.” Inside, James waited. Safe, steady, kind.“Are you okay?” he asked. “Better than okay,” I said. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”