I knelt in front of her and took her hands in mine. “No, sweetie. I’m not mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t make any decisions. It’s not your fault. I’m just here to take you home.”
She hesitated, then reached for me. This time, when I wrapped my arms around her, she clung to me, her small body trembling against mine.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“No, baby, don’t apologize. It’s okay,” I said, my voice breaking.
I pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as I could, like I was afraid if I let go, she might slip away again.
That evening, I sat in the guest bedroom at Susan and David’s house, holding Kora as she slept beside me. I hadn’t wanted to go back to the house—not yet. Not after what had happened. So, we stayed there, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to relax.
But I couldn’t let my guard down. Not yet.
The next morning, I did what I had to do. I contacted the law firm, and Mr. Brown assured me that everything was moving forward with the eviction. It wasn’t just about getting my parents and sister out of the house—it was about reclaiming my life. About taking back control from people who had never respected my boundaries.
I had made my decision.
Kora and I were going to start over. I didn’t know what the future would look like, but for the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid to face it. I was strong. I was a mother. And nothing was going to take that away from me.
Part 3
