Making space for happiness, knowing no one can steal your smile, is one of the most powerful moves you can make in this short life. There was a time when happiness felt like a betrayal. Like something borrowed that would be snatched away the moment you grew attached. You smiled and caught yourself apologizing for it, as if contentment needed a permission slip. As if peace could only exist on the other side of perfection, once every wound had healed, once every crack had been sealed. But life never got around to fixing everything. It just kept moving. And still, somehow, so did you. Not polished. Not perfectly. But forward, nonetheless. You learned that happiness doesn’t arrive with trumpets or sweeping declarations. It doesn’t need spotlights or approval. Sometimes it comes on tiptoe, asking nothing. A favorite song plays when you need it most. Warm sunlight on your face after weeks of gray. The quiet comfort of a still room. The gentle clink of dishes in the sink signaled ordinary life. And instead of tensing for it to vanish, you stood still and allowed happiness to arrive. You opened the door without conditions and let it sit beside you, unguarded and unrestrained. You didn’t demand that it explain itself or promise to stay. You simply let it be. Letting happiness in again felt risky. At first, it fluttered in like something fragile, something temporary, something too delicate to hold. You were afraid to breathe too deeply, afraid to celebrate even the smallest moment in case it disappeared. But slowly, that fear loosened its grip. You stopped questioning every bright feeling. You stopped doubting your right to smile. You allowed yourself to laugh without looking over your shoulder, to feel calm without interrogating it. You didn’t pretend the pain had vanished. You just stopped believing that it was the only thing allowed to take up space. You no longer needed to prove your loyalty to suffering. You stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop, stopped delaying ease until you earned it with enough sorrow. You realized that happiness could coexist with pain. That it didn’t need an invitation stamped in grief. That your heart could hold both.