“You... you and Haille are alright?” she asked at last.
“We’re fine,” I replied softly. “Haille’s very happy here. She asks to go to the beach almost every day.”
I smiled without realizing it, glancing at my daughter. “If she hears the word beach, she immediately runs to get her sandals.”
A quiet laugh mixed with a soft sob came through the line. “I can imagine,” Judy said gently.
Then the laughter faded, replaced by a long breath that sounded like someone holding back tears.
“Elena...” her voice trembled. “I... I know everything now.”
I closed my eyes.
“Adrian told me,” she continued, and this time I heard it clearly—the sound of an adult crying quietly, trying desperately to stay composed. “And I... I’m so sorry.”
There was something in the way she said it that made my chest ache.
“Please forgive me,” she said. “I thought I raised him properly. I thought... I thought I taught him to be a man who knew his boundaries, who understood responsibility. But instead... he hurt you.”
I bit my lip, holding my breath to keep myself steady.
“My son is wrong, Elena,” she said firmly between her sobs. “And I won’t defend him. I have no excuse. No justification.”
She went quiet for a moment, then her voice softened.
“And you... you are my child too.”
Something inside me collapsed at those words.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me most,” she continued. “I should have been more aware. I should have seen it sooner. I should have been there for you.”
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, holding back the sound threatening to escape.
“Judy...” I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “I—”
“No,” she interrupted gently. “Listen to me first.”
I stayed silent.
“No matter what you decide later,” she said, her voice steadier now, as if she were forcing herself to be strong for me. “When you come back... nothing will change.”
I opened my eyes.
“You will still be my daughter,” she said slowly. “And Haille will always be my granddaughter. No decision will ever change that. No distance. No time. Nothing.”
I looked at Haille’s sleeping face, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as if she were dreaming.
“Take care of yourself there,” Judy added. “And please... give my love to Haille.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Yes,” I said softly. “Thank you, Judy.”
The call ended shortly after, without many additional words. There was no need. Everything that mattered had already been said.
I placed the phone back on the nightstand, then lay down slowly beside Haille, pulling the blanket a little higher.
The tears I had been holding back finally fell—quietly, slowly, soaking into the pillow. Not because of a fresh wound, but because I felt seen without being asked to endure, loved without conditions, and reassured that whatever choice I made later… I wouldn’t lose my place.
