My dad saw me limping down the street with my baby and groceries and asked, “Where’s your car?” When I whispered, “His mom took it… said I’m lucky they let me stay,” Dad didn’t argue. He opened the door and said, “Get in. We’re fixing this tonight

If she wants to come and go whenever she pleases, she can do that somewhere else.”

My cheeks burned. Derek had told me his mom “just needed time.” He’d told me not to “take it personally.” But standing here, hearing her say it like a judge, I realized it had never been about time. It was about power.

Dad didn’t raise his voice. “Where are the keys.”

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