Fukhery
Epilogue: Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton
It's funny, ladies. One day you wake up and realize the fukhery is finally... gone. Not lurking in the background, not lingering in old texts, not hiding in half-hearted apologies. Just gone. Senior? Faded out like an old photo you don't need to look at anymore. His calls got fewer, his messages stopped making sense, and eventually, even his shadow couldn't keep up with the light I was walking into.
And oh, what light it is.
Standing hand in hand with Raymond — no, excuse me, Mr. Hamilton — on the day we said our vows, I felt something I never thought I would: complete peace. No racing heart wondering who was texting him, no ache in my chest waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just me, him, and the life we built.
The ceremony was small, intimate, and everything my soul needed. The twins, dressed in their best, giggling as they sprinkled petals down the aisle. Friends, real ones, who saw the whole journey — the ugly parts and the healing. And Raymond, looking like my forever in a perfectly tailored suit, tears slipping down his cheek the moment he saw me walking toward him.
"I promise to protect your peace, to laugh with you until our ribs hurt, to love the woman you are and the woman you're still becoming," he whispered as we exchanged vows. And for the first time, every word felt safe to believe in.
Ladies, let me tell you: marriage is real. Family is real. And yes, true love is real — but only once you choose to love yourself enough to stop settling for what hurts.
Now, we wake up in a house that feels like a home — not a hiding place from heartbreak, but a foundation we built together. Sunday mornings mean music in the kitchen, the twins dancing between our legs as Raymond tries (and fails) to flip pancakes. Quiet nights mean falling asleep on the couch with his hand on my stomach, reminding me that even silence feels full when you're with the right person.
Senior? He became what he always should've been: the past. He pops up every now and then, trying to tap back into something that no longer exists. But the difference now? I don't even feel anger anymore. Just gratitude that he showed me exactly what love isn't — so I could finally recognize what love is.
Because love isn't confusion. It isn't panic attacks in parking lots. It isn't begging someone to choose you. Love is knowing you're chosen even on your worst days. It's kisses in the morning before work, it's laughter in the kitchen, it's the softness in Raymond's voice when he calls me his wife.
Yes, you read that right: Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.
To all my ladies still stuck in your own version of Senior: know that there is a better love waiting. But it starts when you choose you. When you decide your peace costs too much to sell for scraps of affection.
As for me? I finally get it. I finally feel it. Marriage isn't about saving each other; it's about building something worth saving. Family isn't about blood alone; it's about the people who never let go. And love? Love is real — and it's worth every scar, every tear, every damn lesson it took to get here.
So this is goodbye to the drama, the fukhery, the lies and the heartbreak. And hello to a life that feels as beautiful as it looks.
Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton, signing off — with love, laughter, and a peace so deep it could never be shaken again.
1147854039
It's funny, ladies. One day you wake up and realize the fukhery is finally... gone. Not lurking in the background, not lingering in old texts, not hiding in half-hearted apologies. Just gone. Senior? Faded out like an old photo you don't need to look at anymore. His calls got fewer, his messages stopped making sense, and eventually, even his shadow couldn't keep up with the light I was walking into.
And oh, what light it is.
Standing hand in hand with Raymond — no, excuse me, Mr. Hamilton — on the day we said our vows, I felt something I never thought I would: complete peace. No racing heart wondering who was texting him, no ache in my chest waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just me, him, and the life we built.
The ceremony was small, intimate, and everything my soul needed. The twins, dressed in their best, giggling as they sprinkled petals down the aisle. Friends, real ones, who saw the whole journey — the ugly parts and the healing. And Raymond, looking like my forever in a perfectly tailored suit, tears slipping down his cheek the moment he saw me walking toward him.
"I promise to protect your peace, to laugh with you until our ribs hurt, to love the woman you are and the woman you're still becoming," he whispered as we exchanged vows. And for the first time, every word felt safe to believe in.
Ladies, let me tell you: marriage is real. Family is real. And yes, true love is real — but only once you choose to love yourself enough to stop settling for what hurts.
Now, we wake up in a house that feels like a home — not a hiding place from heartbreak, but a foundation we built together. Sunday mornings mean music in the kitchen, the twins dancing between our legs as Raymond tries (and fails) to flip pancakes. Quiet nights mean falling asleep on the couch with his hand on my stomach, reminding me that even silence feels full when you're with the right person.
Senior? He became what he always should've been: the past. He pops up every now and then, trying to tap back into something that no longer exists. But the difference now? I don't even feel anger anymore. Just gratitude that he showed me exactly what love isn't — so I could finally recognize what love is.
Because love isn't confusion. It isn't panic attacks in parking lots. It isn't begging someone to choose you. Love is knowing you're chosen even on your worst days. It's kisses in the morning before work, it's laughter in the kitchen, it's the softness in Raymond's voice when he calls me his wife.
Yes, you read that right: Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.
To all my ladies still stuck in your own version of Senior: know that there is a better love waiting. But it starts when you choose you. When you decide your peace costs too much to sell for scraps of affection.
As for me? I finally get it. I finally feel it. Marriage isn't about saving each other; it's about building something worth saving. Family isn't about blood alone; it's about the people who never let go. And love? Love is real — and it's worth every scar, every tear, every damn lesson it took to get here.
So this is goodbye to the drama, the fukhery, the lies and the heartbreak. And hello to a life that feels as beautiful as it looks.
Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton, signing off — with love, laughter, and a peace so deep it could never be shaken again.
Fukhery
Epilogue: Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton
It's funny, ladies. One day you wake up and realize the fukhery is finally... gone. Not lurking in the background, not lingering in old texts, not hiding in half-hearted apologies. Just gone. Senior? Faded out like an old photo you don't need to look at anymore. His calls got fewer, his messages stopped making sense, and eventually, even his shadow couldn't keep up with the light I was walking into.
And oh, what light it is.
Standing hand in hand with Raymond — no, excuse me, Mr. Hamilton — on the day we said our vows, I felt something I never thought I would: complete peace. No racing heart wondering who was texting him, no ache in my chest waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just me, him, and the life we built.
The ceremony was small, intimate, and everything my soul needed. The twins, dressed in their best, giggling as they sprinkled petals down the aisle. Friends, real ones, who saw the whole journey — the ugly parts and the healing. And Raymond, looking like my forever in a perfectly tailored suit, tears slipping down his cheek the moment he saw me walking toward him.
"I promise to protect your peace, to laugh with you until our ribs hurt, to love the woman you are and the woman you're still becoming," he whispered as we exchanged vows. And for the first time, every word felt safe to believe in.
Ladies, let me tell you: marriage is real. Family is real. And yes, true love is real — but only once you choose to love yourself enough to stop settling for what hurts.
Now, we wake up in a house that feels like a home — not a hiding place from heartbreak, but a foundation we built together. Sunday mornings mean music in the kitchen, the twins dancing between our legs as Raymond tries (and fails) to flip pancakes. Quiet nights mean falling asleep on the couch with his hand on my stomach, reminding me that even silence feels full when you're with the right person.
Senior? He became what he always should've been: the past. He pops up every now and then, trying to tap back into something that no longer exists. But the difference now? I don't even feel anger anymore. Just gratitude that he showed me exactly what love isn't — so I could finally recognize what love is.
Because love isn't confusion. It isn't panic attacks in parking lots. It isn't begging someone to choose you. Love is knowing you're chosen even on your worst days. It's kisses in the morning before work, it's laughter in the kitchen, it's the softness in Raymond's voice when he calls me his wife.
Yes, you read that right: Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.
To all my ladies still stuck in your own version of Senior: know that there is a better love waiting. But it starts when you choose you. When you decide your peace costs too much to sell for scraps of affection.
As for me? I finally get it. I finally feel it. Marriage isn't about saving each other; it's about building something worth saving. Family isn't about blood alone; it's about the people who never let go. And love? Love is real — and it's worth every scar, every tear, every damn lesson it took to get here.
So this is goodbye to the drama, the fukhery, the lies and the heartbreak. And hello to a life that feels as beautiful as it looks.
Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton, signing off — with love, laughter, and a peace so deep it could never be shaken again.
It's funny, ladies. One day you wake up and realize the fukhery is finally... gone. Not lurking in the background, not lingering in old texts, not hiding in half-hearted apologies. Just gone. Senior? Faded out like an old photo you don't need to look at anymore. His calls got fewer, his messages stopped making sense, and eventually, even his shadow couldn't keep up with the light I was walking into.
And oh, what light it is.
Standing hand in hand with Raymond — no, excuse me, Mr. Hamilton — on the day we said our vows, I felt something I never thought I would: complete peace. No racing heart wondering who was texting him, no ache in my chest waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just me, him, and the life we built.
The ceremony was small, intimate, and everything my soul needed. The twins, dressed in their best, giggling as they sprinkled petals down the aisle. Friends, real ones, who saw the whole journey — the ugly parts and the healing. And Raymond, looking like my forever in a perfectly tailored suit, tears slipping down his cheek the moment he saw me walking toward him.
"I promise to protect your peace, to laugh with you until our ribs hurt, to love the woman you are and the woman you're still becoming," he whispered as we exchanged vows. And for the first time, every word felt safe to believe in.
Ladies, let me tell you: marriage is real. Family is real. And yes, true love is real — but only once you choose to love yourself enough to stop settling for what hurts.
Now, we wake up in a house that feels like a home — not a hiding place from heartbreak, but a foundation we built together. Sunday mornings mean music in the kitchen, the twins dancing between our legs as Raymond tries (and fails) to flip pancakes. Quiet nights mean falling asleep on the couch with his hand on my stomach, reminding me that even silence feels full when you're with the right person.
Senior? He became what he always should've been: the past. He pops up every now and then, trying to tap back into something that no longer exists. But the difference now? I don't even feel anger anymore. Just gratitude that he showed me exactly what love isn't — so I could finally recognize what love is.
Because love isn't confusion. It isn't panic attacks in parking lots. It isn't begging someone to choose you. Love is knowing you're chosen even on your worst days. It's kisses in the morning before work, it's laughter in the kitchen, it's the softness in Raymond's voice when he calls me his wife.
Yes, you read that right: Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.
To all my ladies still stuck in your own version of Senior: know that there is a better love waiting. But it starts when you choose you. When you decide your peace costs too much to sell for scraps of affection.
As for me? I finally get it. I finally feel it. Marriage isn't about saving each other; it's about building something worth saving. Family isn't about blood alone; it's about the people who never let go. And love? Love is real — and it's worth every scar, every tear, every damn lesson it took to get here.
So this is goodbye to the drama, the fukhery, the lies and the heartbreak. And hello to a life that feels as beautiful as it looks.
Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton, signing off — with love, laughter, and a peace so deep it could never be shaken again.
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940184389141 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Barnes & Noble Press |
| Publication date: | 09/28/2025 |
| Series: | Fukhery |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 377 KB |
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