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For more than ten years, our Sundays had belonged to us in a way that felt almost untouchable, not because of any belief or routine imposed from the outside, but because we had quietly created something of our own—slow mornings, warm pancakes, cartoons playing in the background, and a sense of calm that stood in contrast to the rest of our busy lives.
It was never about religion.
It was about stability.
Which is why, when Derek suddenly insisted that we start going to church every Sunday, the change felt small on the surface, yet strangely unsettling in a way I couldn’t immediately explain.
At first, I assumed it was just a phase, something driven by stress or the need to reset after a particularly continue reading …
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