My uncle raised me after my parents died. After his funeral, I got a letter in his handwriting that started with four words that made my chest freeze: “I’ve been lying to you your whole life.” I was twenty-six, and I hadn’t walked since I was four. Most people hear that and assume your life started in a hospital bed, that the story begins with tragedy and ends with limitations. But I had a before. I don’t remember the crash. I don’t remember the way my mom, Lena, used to

I always believed my husband and I would be together until death do us part, just like we promised in our vows. But one shocking night, everything I thought I knew about him shattered. The truth about his secret life was revealed by our little daughter, forcing me to make sure he could never hurt me—or Sophie—again. Mark and I had been married for seven years. I was thirty-four, a graphic designer working from home, and until recently, I thought our marriage was perfect. Solid. Unshakable. I never imagined that

My mom has been dead for two years now.And her so-called best friend is my stepmom. Everything finally exploded on the night she threw a party on my mom’s death anniversary. Cancer took my mom. One month before her diagnosis, we were arguing in the hallway because I never folded towels the “right way.” She stood there with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes, saying, “You fold like you’re angry at the towel.” Two months later, a hospice nurse sat at our kitchen table explaining morphine schedules while my mom