“Mom, I don’t expect you to reply to this. I just need to say it. Sarah and I are taking some time apart. Her parents ended up having to rent a tiny apartment, and she blamed me for not forcing you out. When I finally stood up to her, she left. Without your credit card masking how broke we were, the reality hit hard. I was greedy. Mom, I was lazy. I let her walk all over you because it was easier for me. I’m starting therapy next week. I need to figure out how to be a man, not just a passenger in my own life. I hope one day you can look at me without disappointment. Love, David.”
I read the letter twice.
A younger version of me would have immediately picked up the phone, driven to the city, and tried to fix his broken life.
I would have offered money for a lawyer or a place to stay.
But I wasn’t that woman anymore.
I carefully folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope.
I didn’t call him.
I didn’t text him.
If he was truly going to therapy and learning to stand on his own two feet, the worst thing I could do was swoop in and rescue him.
He needed to feel the weight of his own choices.
Maybe in a year, if he showed real progress, we could meet for a cup of coffee.
But on my terms.
I placed the letter on the side table, picked up my mug of tea, and leaned back in my chair.
The sun the sun was setting over the water, casting long golden shadows across the deck.
I took a deep breath.
The house was quiet.
The locks were changed.
The money was safe.
I watch the waves roll in completely and utterly at peace.
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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.