Hi, I’m Lucy. I’m 32, and for most of my adult life, I thought I’d built something steady, warm, and safe. I had a modest home, a stable job as a billing coordinator, a small but comforting routine, and a husband who kissed my forehead every morning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Oliver used to slip little notes into my lunchbox — silly doodles, “I love you,” reminders to drink water. Nothing spectacular, but to me, it was everything. Quiet joy. Predictable comfort. A life I trusted….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW