There's a specific loneliness in doubting your own memory. You replay conversations while staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where reality shifted. They sounded so certain — so calm — that you assumed you must be the unstable one. And little by little, you outsourced your instincts to the very person dismantling them. Taking your intuition back is messy; it feels rebellious at first — but it is the most important reunion of your life.