My name is Emily, I’m 24, and lately it feels like life has been swinging at me nonstop with a bat. I never grew up in a fairytale. Things were far from perfect, but I kept pushing forward. I worked part-time at a cozy bookstore while trying to finish my college degree, and I shared a small apartment with Ethan. Ethan wasn’t just my boyfriend — he was my anchor, my safe place. He held my hand when anxiety crept in, told ridiculous jokes until I laughed so hard my sides hurt, and came home every day with grease-smudged fingers...
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