I used to believe that love could survive disappointment.
For years, I convinced myself that if I loved my husband enough, if I stayed patient enough, and if I carried our family’s burdens without complaint, eventually, he would stop looking at me like I had stolen the life he had always imagined.
Instead, every year only deepened the distance between us, and our son was the one who paid the highest price.
My name is Cyra, and my son, Liam, has used a wheelchair since he was a little boy.
There wasn’t a single day when I looked at him and wished for someone different.
He was funny, thoughtful, and impossibly smart.