My husband’s mistress shoved me down the stairs while I was eight months pregnant. When he came running, she cried, “She slipped”—but I whispered four words that drained the color from her face.

Lila’s first birthday was in May.

The sun was shining.

The grass was green.

The air smelled like lilacs from the bush in the front yard of the new house I’d bought.

A small, three-bedroom house with a big backyard on the north side.

Far from the old house.

Far from the stairs.

Far from all the bad memories.

Mia and I had started a nonprofit six months earlier.

Stronger Together.

We helped women who’d survived domestic violence, partner infidelity during pregnancy, and abusive relationships get back on their feet.

Legal help.

Housing.

Childcare.

Therapy.

Job training.

We’d helped over a hundred women in our first six months.

It was the hardest, most rewarding thing I’d ever done.

Every time a woman walked through our doors, scared and broken, and walked out a few months later with a job, an apartment, and a smile on her face, I felt a little more healed myself.

Lila’s birthday party was small.

Just family.

Mia.

My mom and dad, who’d flown in from Florida.

Cole, who’d become a good friend.

Elena, my lawyer, who’d become family.

And Daniel.

He showed up right on time.

Sober.

Clean-shaven.

Wearing a button-down shirt and jeans.

He was holding a big wrapped present in one hand and a teddy bear in the other.

“Hi,” he said, nervous. “I hope this is okay. The bear was Ethan’s. He had it since he was a kid. I thought Lila might like it.”

I took the bear.

It was old.

Worn.

Soft.

“She’ll love it,” I said.

He smiled.

A real, genuine smile.

The first one I’d seen from him in over a year.

The party was perfect.

We ate cake.

We opened presents.

Lila smashed a cupcake all over her face and laughed so hard she snort-laughed.

Daniel sat on the floor with her the whole time, playing with her, letting her pull his hair, taking a hundred photos.

When it was time for him to leave, he knelt down in front of Lila.

“Happy birthday, baby girl,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Daddy loves you so much. More than anything in the whole world.”

Lila grabbed his face with both her sticky hands and kissed his nose.

“Dada,” she said.

Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.

Mine did too.

He stood up and looked at me.

“Thank you,” he said. “For today. For everything. For giving me a second chance with her.”

“You earned it,” I said.

He left.

I stood on the porch, holding Lila, watching him drive away.

Mia came out and stood next to me.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she said.

I looked at Lila.

She was chewing on Ethan’s teddy bear’s ear, her eyes half closed, full of cake and milk and love.

“I was just thinking,” I said. “About how everything that happened—all the pain, all the fear, all the heartbreak—it led me here. To this house. To this job. To this little girl. To being stronger than I ever thought I could be. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone. But I wouldn’t change it either. Not if it meant not having her.”

Mia put her arm around my shoulders.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she said.

I smiled.

“We’re amazing,” I said.

The sun started to set.

Pink and orange and purple painted the sky.

Lila fell asleep on my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.

I thought of Vanessa, sitting in her jail cell, alone, with nothing but her own hate to keep her company.

I thought of Ethan, gone too soon, but never forgotten.

I thought of Daniel, still trying, still healing, still showing up every day.

I thought of all the women who would walk through the doors of Stronger Together tomorrow, scared and alone, and leave knowing they weren’t.

I thought of Lila.