After my mother left, the house felt unfamiliar.
Not empty.
Just honest.
Lily sat in the nursery chair and cried. Not out of fear anymore, but release.
I sat beside her.
“I should have seen it sooner,” I told her.
For once, I didn’t defend myself. I didn’t explain how tired I was or how much I trusted my mother. I simply owned what I had failed to see.
Healing did not happen overnight.
Lily still startled at sounds.
She still apologized for being tired.
Some days, she still questioned herself.
But slowly, the house changed.
We got help.
We changed the locks.
We saved the footage.
Because truth matters, especially when someone tries to rewrite it.
