Chapter 7: What the Teacher Remembered

Everyone turned.

The teacher pointed toward Dad first. “You graduated here eighteen years ago carrying a baby.”

Then she looked at Liza.

“And you disappeared that same summer with your boyfriend.”

The murmurs grew louder instantly.

I looked back at Dad, barely breathing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He swallowed hard. “Because I was seventeen and terrified. And because I thought if you believed one parent chose to keep you, it might hurt less.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“And later?” I whispered. “Why not tell me when I got older?”

His eyes filled completely then.

“Because after a while, I didn’t know how to tell you something that might make you feel unwanted.” His voice softened. “In my heart, you became mine the second I carried you across that football field.”

Behind us, Liza suddenly shouted again. Continue Reading ⬇️