“I’ll think about it,” I said, though we both knew I wouldn’t.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
After we hung up, I stood there for a while, staring at the stove as the pasta boiled over.
I wasn’t angry.
Just tired.
But beneath that tiredness was something new.
Clarity.
They were trying to reach out, not because they missed me, but because they felt the walls closing in.
The story had taken a life of its own online.
People were connecting dots, even though I’d never named names.
Small-town gossip has a way of filling in blanks.
Still, I didn’t care about payback at that moment.
I was finally living without them, and it felt good.
Then, one Friday evening, Tyler came over with a grin.
“Guess what?” he said, dropping a thick envelope on my table.
“What’s this?”
“Bank statements,” he said. “From Dad’s business account. You might want to take a look.”
