This Way

9.

Three years had passed since the day we lost Judah. I was now 27, and so much had changed in my life, in who I was. I often found myself looking back on that 19-year-old girl I had been, young and scared, filled with dreams and insecurities. I wasn't that girl anymore. Now, I was a woman—strong, resilient. I had been through the kind of pain I never imagined surviving, but here I was, standing tall. I was a wife, a mother of two beautiful girls, and a business owner.

Yes, I had finally opened my own dance studio in California. It had taken time, but with Mikhail's support and the push from Becca, I had made it happen. The studio was a small dream turned into a bustling reality, with students coming in and out every day, eager to learn. I loved every moment with them—watching their confidence grow, helping them discover the beauty in movement. It felt like I had found my purpose, and it was something I was truly proud of. In a way, the studio had saved me, giving me a reason to wake up every morning and keep going.

Life had settled into a rhythm. Mikhail and I were stronger than ever, our bond deepened by everything we had been through. We were still madly in love, and despite the busy days and sleepless nights, we always found time for each other. It was one of those nights when we were tangled up in bed, sharing the quiet moments of the night, that he said something completely unexpected.

We were making love, his hands running over my skin like he couldn't get enough of me. His breath was warm against my neck, his voice a low whisper in my ear. "Let's go to Georgia," he said, so casually that for a moment, I thought I had misheard him.

I froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. "What?" I asked, my voice thick with surprise.

"Georgia," he repeated, his eyes serious but soft. "Let's go. It's been long enough."

I sat up, pulling the sheets around me as I tried to process what he was saying. "Why?" I asked, confusion swirling in my mind. "There's nothing special there anymore. I haven't talked to my family in years, Mikhail. I don't know if I even want to go back."

He sat up too, his hand sliding up my back in a gentle, reassuring touch. "I know it's not easy, baby. But I think it's time. I think... maybe you need to go back and face it."

I stared at him, my heart racing. Georgia. The place I had run away from, the place filled with memories I had tried so hard to bury. My family was still there, though we hadn't spoken in years. I hadn't seen my father since the day I left New York, and the idea of going back, of facing him after everything, terrified me.

"I don't need to face anything," I said quickly, getting out of bed and grabbing my robe, needing the space to think. "Why now? What's the point?"

Mikhail got up, following me to where I stood by the window. His hands slid around my waist, pulling me close. "Because I can see it in you, love," he whispered. "There's still a part of you that's holding back. You've become this amazing, strong woman. But I know you. There's still a piece of you that's stuck back there, in the past, with your father, with everything you left behind. Maybe going back will help you let go of it."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "What if I'm not ready?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then we don't go," he said softly, turning me around to face him. "But if you are, if even a small part of you thinks it might help... then we go. I'll be with you. You won't have to do it alone."

I looked into his eyes, the love and patience there making my heart ache. He had always known how to push me just enough, to get me to face things I didn't want to. But this... this was different. Going back to Georgia wasn't just about seeing my family. It was about facing the person I had been, the things I had run from, and the pain I had buried.