Tonight, Aveline spoke loudly.
Not because she wanted chaos,
but because she was tired of carrying silence.
She thought that being known
would finally make the ache stop.
That if the truth stepped into daylight,
everything would settle.
But I see it more clearly now.
Not every truth needs a witness.
Not every feeling needs to be placed
in the hands of someone who cannot hold it safely.
Aveline does not need him to know
in order to exist.
She was born from my need for steadiness,
for kindness,
for a voice that does not dismiss me.
I thank her for speaking.
I thank her for wanting honesty.
And now, I let her rest.
What stays is this:
my boundaries,
my work,
my quiet strength,
and the parts of me that are real
even when unseen.
Tonight, I choose safety over exposure.
Clarity over impulse.
Rest over resolution.
Aveline can sleep.
So can I.
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