Not yet.
My parents were already drowning in loss. Dropping the revelation that Rose had built a second life here—one that didn’t include Randy—felt cruel without understanding the full picture first.
I’d keep that to myself until I knew more.
“How’s Randy?” I asked.
Another pause.
“Not good,” my mother said softly. “He’s … beside himself. Keeps saying he should’ve been there. That if he’d gone with her …”
My father cut in gently. “He’s grateful you’re handling things there so he doesn’t have to travel right now.”
Of course, he was. Randy had loved Rose. In his steady, uncomplicated way, he’d loved her completely. The idea of him walking into this apartment and seeing evidence of another man—of another life—made something twist painfully in my chest.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “He shouldn’t have to deal with all of this.”
“That’s very kind,” my mother said.
Kind. Responsible. The reliable daughter.
I’d worn that role most of my life.
My father cleared his throat. “Paris treating you all right?”
“It’s … different.” I hesitated, then decided to push. “Dad, did you ever keep in touch with anyone here? Family, I mean.”
Silence. Longer this time.
My mother sighed softly, a warning.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” my father said, tone tightening just enough for me to notice. “There’s no one you’d want to see.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’s old history.”
“You grew up here.”
“And I left,” he replied shortly. “That was a long time ago.”
I pressed. “There’s no one? Cousins? An aunt? Anyone?”
A pause, then, reluctantly, “Trust me, Ella. You don’t need to go digging around.”
Which, of course, guaranteed I would.
My mother jumped back in, voice gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, your father’s already in enough pain. Losing Rose …” Her voice wavered. “Let the past stay where it belongs.”
Guilt pricked at me immediately.
They were good parents. Protective, attentive, present in all the ways that mattered. Even if they’d always leaned toward caution. Stability. Safe choices.
My father in banking, methodical and disciplined. My mother selling Manhattan apartments with relentless optimism and ironclad practicality. They’d built a good life, one built on careful decisions and minimal risk.
They’d taught us to do the same.
Choose stability. Choose safety. Don’t rock the boat.
