Chapter 13 - The Olive Branch—Too Late
By late January, my phone buzzed with an unrecognized number that I initially thought about blocking. But something prompted me to look at the preview text: “Cassidy, it’s Dad. Please just read this.”
I opened the message.
“Your mother is sitting in the kitchen right now, looking at old photo albums of when you were little. She realizes now how badly she misjudged everything. She isn't asking for money, and she isn't asking you to fix Brittany’s life. She just wants to know if there's any room in your heart to eventually forgive us. Take all the time you need. I love you, Cass.”
I stared at the screen for a long time. The anger that had fueled my escape from Seattle had cooled into a calm, dignified indifference.
I didn't feel rage anymore. I didn't feel bitterness. I just felt a profound, unshakeable distance.
I typed out a measured, honest reply:
May you like
“Dad, I love you, and I appreciate you trying to bridge the gap. But right now, I need space to build my own life without the constant shadow of expectations and entitlement. I am doing well, and I am happy. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
When Dad replied simply with, “I understand. Be safe, sweetie,” a deep, invisible knot in my chest finally untied.
