Five Years Later
Iris was thirty-nine years old when she walked across a stage and received her certificate in peer counseling.
She had earned it. Years of therapy, years of study, years of helping others who were struggling with their own darkness. She worked at a community center now, leading support groups for survivors of trauma. She didn’t hide her past. She didn’t advertise it. She just listened.
Dr. Sterling sat in the front row, applauding.
After the ceremony, they walked to a small café and sat by the window.
“I’m proud of you,” the doctor said.
“I’m proud of me too.”
“What’s next?”
Iris looked out at the street — at the people walking, the cars driving, the world turning.
“I don’t know. But I’m not afraid.”
The doctor smiled. “That’s the difference. You’re not afraid anymore.”
“No. I’m not.”
That night, Iris went home to her small apartment.
She made tea, sat on the couch, and opened a book. The words were simple, comforting, familiar. She read until her eyes grew heavy, then set the book aside.
She looked at her hands.
They were clean.
They would always be clean.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in her life, she slept without dreaming.