I wanted to.”

After we hung up, I remained beside my car for several minutes.

The decision still hurt.

It also felt right.

Both things could be true.

That evening, Mom called.

Her voice was different.

“Can we meet?”

“About what?”

“Us.”

Not the bungalow.

Us.

I agreed.

She chose a coffee shop halfway between our homes.

Neutral territory.

That mattered.

At my parents’ continue reading …

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