But everything had changed.
In the back seat, my son sat quietly with his hands folded in his lap.
He studied the house like it was a place from a story he’d heard a hundred times—but never touched.
I hadn’t come back for forgiveness.
I hadn’t come back for a fight.
I came back because my son deserved to know the truth.
And because the truth was the one thing my parents couldn’t laugh off anymore.