Chapter 10
This was the last thing I expected.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it—that woman who always seemed so polished and elegant could have such a nasty, manipulative
side.
“How do you even know all this?” I asked, still trying to process everything.
Noah leaned forward, his expression serious. “When I was going through some of your old stuff, I found your medical records–your test results and everything. Dad only had to take one look at them, and he pieced it all
together. Ever since, he’s been blaming himself. He feels awful about not taking
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Chapter 10
Chapter 10
This was the last thing I expected.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it–that woman who always seemed so polished and elegant could have such a nasty, manipulative
side.
“How do you even know all this?” I asked, still trying to process everything.
Noah leaned forward, his expression serious. “When I was going through some of your old stuff, I found your medical records–your test results and everything. Dad only had to take one look at them, and he pieced it all
together. Ever since, he’s been blaming himself. He feels awful about not taking
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better care of you back then. Honestly, he knows he screwed up, Mom. These past few years… he’s been alone. And not doing great, to tell you the truth.”
He kept talking, saying so much–more than I could take in at once. Most of it was him
trying to convince me to give Michael another
chance.
And maybe it worked, just a little, because I felt this pang of regret out of nowhere.
If I’d finalized the divorce before I left, maybe it wouldn’t feel this complicated now.
At least that way, Michael still wouldn’t have the rights of a family member. He wouldn’t be able to visit me whenever he wanted.
But he did.
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He never made a sound and never tried to talk
to me unless I initiated it. But I always knew
when he was there. I could feel it, like an instinct. Maybe it was because, years ago, I’d learned him so well–his habits, his
movements–that his presence was something
I couldn’t unlearn.
The illness dragged on and on. Another year passed, and I was still fighting.
Then, one day, out of nowhere, Michael signed the divorce papers.
He said he wanted to respect my decision but asked if he could still visit sometimes to talk.
I said yes.
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But after that, I barely saw either him or Noah. They stayed away most of the time, worried about my immune system’s fragility. Still, the medical staff noticed them whenever they did come around.
I’d overhear them whispering sometimes. “Look, it’s them again,” one nurse would say. “They didn’t appreciate her when they had her. Now, they just stand there staring at her through the glass. What’s the point?”
That summer, Mom passed away.
The world grieved her loss, but none more than me.
I cried until I felt like there was nothing left inside me. Just empty.
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was giving me something. Pieces of her, of them, to carry with me.
Over the next twenty years, Dad kept going the same way. He survived, but just barely, living off those memories of Mom.
But then, one day, he left.
I’ll never forget it. He wore the same white coat he’d been wearing the first time he and Mom met at the hospital.
I understood.
He wasn’t just going anywhere–he was going
to Africa.
He wanted to retrace her steps, to follow the path she’d walked, even if it meant he’d never
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come back.
And somehow, I understood.
