“Let me know what you decide by noon tomorrow.”
I don’t know what will happen with the house. Maybe they’ll scrape together the money. Maybe they won’t.
Maybe Daniel will spend the next year telling anyone who listens that I stole what was his. Maybe Ava and Jenna will start remembering things they spent years pretending not to see.
I do not know if Sarah’s letter was an apology or a confession or the only act of courage she managed in our whole life together.
Maybe it was all three.
I don’t know what will happen with the house.
What I do know is this: the truth did not fix my childhood.
It did not turn Sarah into the mother I wanted. It didn’t give me back the years I spent wondering why her love stopped at arm’s length.
But it gave me something I had never had before in that house.
A place to stand.
It gave me something I had never had before in that house.
