I smiled anyway and answered with the only truth that mattered to me at that moment.
“I would rather be loved by someone who sees my soul than someone who judges my skin,” I said, and I meant every word.
Our wedding was small, warm, and filled with music from his students, and I walked down the aisle in a high neck gown that covered every scar I had hidden for years.
For the first time, I did not feel ashamed of my body or my past.
That night, we returned to our tiny apartment in a quiet neighborhood in Baltimore, and everything felt safe in a way I had not experienced in a long time.
Caleb touched my fingers first, then my cheek, then my arms, moving slowly as if learning me by heart.
He leaned close and whispered, “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” and tears filled my eyes because I believed him completely.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“I had already seen your face before.”
My whole body went cold, and I pulled back, staring at him as if I had misunderstood what he meant.
“You’re blind,” I said carefully, trying to make sense of the words.