Chapter 6: Only If She Can Listen

The letters told me what my pride had refused to imagine: my daughter had not been stolen from me; she had run from the version of love I called protection… Continue Reading ⬇️

She and Mitchell were married. She had changed out of her prom dress in the car. She had begged Liam to hide it because she knew I would think the worst.

One letter said Mitchell wanted her to call me.

“Your mom loves you,” he had told her.

Livia wrote back, “That’s the problem. She loves me like a locked door.”

The words cut deeper than any insult.

Another letter said Natalie had opened her door at two in the morning when Livia arrived crying. Natalie did not ask whose fault it was. She said, “Come inside, honey. We’ll figure out the morning when it gets here.”

I wanted to hate her.

Instead, shame burned my face.

The baby’s name was Rose. My granddaughter. Three months old.

In the letter meant for me, Livia wrote:

“I need to know if you can love me without owning me.” Continue Reading ⬇️