About 10 days later, her name lit up my phone.
“Mom,” she said, “I’ve made a decision.”
My heart pounded. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“I meant what I said when you first met him,” she said. “I’m not letting my life be defined by your high school breakup. I’m furious. I feel betrayed. But I also know he loves me, and I want to try to fix it. He’s coming home.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat.
And for the first time, I felt like I could face my past with a brave expression.
“Sweetie,” I said, “you’re right. This started as our mess, not yours. I want you safe and happy. I may not love how it began, but it’s your life. I respect your choice.”
She exhaled, shaky. “Thanks, Mom. That’s what I needed.”
And for the first time, I felt like I could face my past with a brave expression.
