Chapter 15 - KIERNNAN THE WIDOWER WHO WASN’T
For three years I had built an identity around grief.
Widower.
Single father.
Man who survived.
Now legally, historically, emotionally:
wrong.
Not fake.
Wrong.
Therapy helped.
Serena’s therapist.
My therapist.
Perrin’s therapist.
Separate.
No family therapy soup where everyone shares one room and cries on schedule.
I had to grieve my grief.
The funeral happened.
The pain happened.
The loneliness happened.
Even if Serena lived.
One night I told her:
“I feel stupid.”
“Why?”
“I buried you.”
“You buried Lydia.”
“I gave speeches.”
“You thought I was dead.”
“I got engaged.”
She looked away.
There.
Pain.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Part of me feels like I cheated.”
“You didn’t.”
She said it firmly.
That mattered.
Then:
“Part of me hates Rhea because she got the version of you that kept living.”
I nodded.
“I hate that she got years with Perrin.”
We sat with both truths.
May you like
No competition.
Rhea stole time from both of us differently.
