And they still planned this.
For me.
The towel suddenly feels too warm.
“You’re sure you can afford it?” I whisper.
“We already paid for it,” Mom says gently. “Flight, rental car, cottage. Done. And before you say anything—this isn’t charity. This is your family showing up.”
A tear slips out before I can stop it.
I wipe it quickly, shaking my head.
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll let us hug you,” Mom says. “Say you’ll let us be there.”
My voice cracks. “Yeah. I want that.”
A little exhale on the other end, like she’s been holding her breath for days.
“Good. We’ll be there in three days.”
Three days.
Three days until I have my parents near me again.
Three days until I’m not handling this alone.
I nod even though she can’t see it.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll see you then.”
“Love you, Jade.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up, stare at my reflection in the darkened phone screen.
My hair still wet.
My face flushed from crying.
Salt on my lips from sweat and tears and ocean air.
Fuck it. I survived them.
The shower is hot enough to sting, which is exactly what I need.
To scrub off the crying.
The anger.
The part of me that still aches when I hear his voice in my head.
By the time I towel off and throw on fresh clothes, my pulse feels steadier.
I head downstairs.
