After fifty years of marriage, I never imagined I’d be the one asking for an ending. At seventy-five, most people hold tightly to the life they’ve built, but I found myself feeling lost. It wasn’t because Charles had wronged me or changed in any harmful way. It was because I no longer recognized myself. After decades of raising children, caring for family, and keeping our home running smoothly, I felt as though I had become a shadow of my own identity.
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