“Yeah.”
“Good. We’ll call her first thing Monday morning. But right now, you’re going to take a shower and try to rest for a few hours. I’ll handle things if anyone calls or shows up.”
“Marcus—”
“I’ve got you,” he said, and in his eyes I saw not just love but fierce protectiveness. “I’ve always got you.”
Sunday was surprisingly normal. We made pancakes with chocolate chips. Lily chattered about her party, about the presents she’d gotten, about how Emma’s mom had said the cake was delicious. She didn’t mention her grandparents once.
Marcus and I exchanged glances over her head, silently agreeing to let her be happy, to not burden her with the adult drama happening around her.
We went to the park in the afternoon—the big one with the good playground, the one we usually avoided because parking cost $10. Today, Marcus paid for parking without hesitation. It felt decadent. Lily ran straight for the swings, her purple dress from yesterday replaced with comfortable play clothes.
“Push me, Daddy! Push me high!”
Marcus obliged, sending her sailing through the air, her laughter carrying across the playground. I sat on a bench and watched them, my phone silent in my pocket. I’d turned off all notifications, unable to handle the constant buzzing of incoming messages.
“Your family is beautiful.”
I looked up to find an older woman sitting down beside me. She was maybe seventy, with kind eyes and silver hair.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’ve been watching you all afternoon. You all seem so happy together.”
“We are,” I said, and realized it was true. Despite everything—maybe because of everything—we were happy.
“Treasure that,” the woman said. “Family is everything. And not always the family you’re born into, but the one you choose to build.”
The words hit me harder than they should have. “Yes,” I managed. “Yes, exactly.”
She patted my hand and stood to leave. “Your daughter is lucky to have parents who love her so well.”
After she walked away, I let myself cry again—quiet tears that Marcus couldn’t see from the swings. But they weren’t sad tears, not exactly. They were complicated tears. Grief and relief and hope all mixed together.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out—a text from an unknown number.
This is Danny’s wife, Rachel. I’m so sorry about what happened. I had no idea they’d skipped Lily’s party. I had no idea about any of it. For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.
I stared at the message for a long moment, then typed back: Thank you. That means a lot.
Three dots appeared, then: They’re talking about moving back to Portland. To be “closer to family.” I think they mean to wear you down, to show up until you give in. Please don’t let them. You and your family deserve better.
A chill ran down my spine. Are they serious?
Very. Robert is already looking at apartments online. Margaret is calling it “repairing the relationship.” But between you and me, I think they’re panicking because they’ve run out of money and Danny told them this morning that we can’t support them long-term.
Of course. Of course that’s what this was about. Not reconciliation. Not genuine remorse. Just panic that their gravy train had dried up.
Thank you for the warning, I typed. And I’m sorry they’re disrupting your life.
Not your fault. Good luck, Sarah. Stand your ground.
I showed Marcus the exchange when we got home. His jaw tightened.
“We’re calling Jennifer first thing tomorrow,” he said. “And we’re documenting everything. If they show up here uninvited, we’re calling the police. I mean it, Sarah. I won’t have them harassing you or scaring Lily.”
“I know,” I said. “I agree.”
