Chapter 10 - THE TASTE OF FREEDOM
Six months later. May 2027.
The spring sun shone bright over the university campus lawn, turning the brick archways into warm gold.
I sat in the front row of the auditorium bleachers, wearing a summer dress, clapping until my hands were sore.
Up on the main stage, Wren walked proudly across the platform, wearing her dark green high school graduation cap and gown. She shook the principal’s hand, received her diploma with highest honors, and held it high above her head.
She had received her official acceptance letter to the State University’s Environmental Science Honors Program three weeks earlier—fully funded by her dedicated trust account and a merit scholarship she had earned on her own.
Beside me in the bleachers sat Simone, holding two iced coffees, cheering loudly as Wren walked off the stage.
“She did it, Cass,” Simone smiled, nudging my shoulder.
“We did it,” I corrected her, feeling a warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the May sun.
After the ceremony, Wren came running across the green lawn, her green robe fluttering in the spring breeze, her diploma held tightly in her hand. She threw her arms around my neck, hugging me so tightly we almost fell over onto the grass.
“I got into the honors dorms, Cass!” Wren squealed excitedly. “I get my own study room!”
“I’m so proud of you, Wren,” I said softly, smoothing down her graduation cap.
My phone vibrated in my purse.
I pulled it out. It was a text message from an unknown number. I tapped to open it.
It was a text from my father.
DAD (1:15 PM): I heard Wren graduated today. Tell her congratulations. We sold the house last week. We had to downsize to a two-bedroom townhome in the valley. Brent is working at a auto parts store now. He moved out into an apartment with two roommates. I hope you’re happy with what you did to us.
I looked at the text message for a long moment.
Six months ago, a message like that would have sent a sharp spike of guilt through my chest. It would have made me feel responsible for their unhappiness, their financial struggles, and their broken pride.
Now, looking at the message under the bright spring sky, I felt absolutely nothing.
They hadn't downsized because of me. They had downsized because they were forced to face reality once they could no longer exploit their daughter. Brent hadn't gotten a job because of me; he had gotten a job because he finally had to grow up at thirty-five.
I hit the settings button on my phone, tapped Block This Caller, and slid the phone back into my purse.
“Who was that?” Wren asked, looking at me curiously as she adjusted her honors sash.
“Nobody,” I smiled, taking her hand and walking toward the car. “Just an old bill that’s already been settled.”
We drove back to our quiet, sunlit condo, where the windows were wide open, letting in the sweet smell of blooming spring flowers and fresh air.
I walked into the kitchen, poured three glasses of cold lemonade, and sat down at my own dining table—a sleek, modern glass table I had bought with my own money, sitting in a home that belonged entirely to me.
There was no peeling wallpaper. No scratched oak table. No sound of heavy, angry footsteps overhead.
May you like
Only peace.
I took a sip of my lemonade, looked across the table at my sister’s smiling face, and for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what it felt like to stand on my own two feet.
