I controlled everything. Then she walked in and flipped the script. PR was my territory—my safety net, my identity. Until I lost my wife and daughter, and control became survival.
Moving forward wasn’t the plan, but neither was feeling again. Until a glasses-wearing firecracker made my heart remember how to beat.
Recoil needs a comeback, and I need to learn to let go. Getting under her skin is the storm I choose. Even that chaos feels better than silence. If only for a moment.
She’s relentless. I’m damaged. But together, we’re everything. Some battles start with surrender, but ours can only be amplified by the wreckage. *Previously published as Plucker.
