The snow had stopped, leaving the grounds covered in a pristine, white blanket.

I stood by the glass, holding a warm cup of tea.

I thought of Ben.

I thought of the small apartment we had shared, the dreams we had of a simple, quiet life.

This was not the life we had planned.

It was larger, more complicated, and carried a weight I never expected to bear.

But as I looked out at the quiet night, I knew we had survived the storm.

My husband’s killers were behind bars, his name was cleared, and our daughter had a future.

I heard a soft step behind me.

Julian stood in the doorway, his coat off, his shirtsleeves rolled up.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No,” I said, turning to him. “It’s peaceful tonight.”

He walked over and stood beside me, looking out at the dark water.

“The court dates are set for next month,” he said.

“I will have to testify.”

“I know,” I said.

“It won’t be easy,” he said. “The papers will make a circus of it.”

“Let them,” I said. “We have nothing left to hide.”

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a deep sense of relief in his face.

“No,” he said softly. “We don’t.”

He reached out, his hand hovering for a second before he gently placed it over mine on the cold railing.

His touch was warm, solid, and certain.

We stood there together, looking out at the lake, as the quiet city slept beneath the winter sky.