Then she turned to Graham’s mother and said the words I’d waited years to hear.
“I’m sorry. For all of it. For the bills. For the silence. For leaving you alone.”
Graham’s mother looked at her for a long moment. She didn’t cry. She didn’t reach for my mother’s hand.
You chose him over your own blood.
“I forgave you a long time ago,” she said quietly. “I just wanted you to say it.”
Graham slipped his hand into mine. The tears I’d held back all day finally came — not from anger, but from relief. The lies were over.
I thought I would feel triumphant. Instead, I felt tired.
My parents didn’t call after that. My mother sent one text: You chose him over your own blood. Don’t come back.
I read it twice, then set the phone down.
“Are you okay?” Graham asked.
