Emily met his eyes. “If something happens, I want you there. But you don’t decide instead of me unless you have to. You help make sure my voice is heard.”
His expression softened with pride and grief together. “Always.”
For the first time since the apartment, Emily felt something inside her unclench.
Not because the danger had vanished.
Because she was no longer surrounded by people explaining her life to her.
She was speaking for herself.
That evening, Claire called.
Emily sat in her mother’s old bedroom, now hers again, with a notebook open on her lap. Outside, sunset painted the windows gold. Dad stood in the doorway at first, then left when Emily gave him a small nod.
“Are you still safe?” Claire asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
There was a pause, then a soft laugh. “That’s new.”
“What?”
“Someone asking me that like they really want the answer.”
