She closed the space between us and wrapped both arms around me without a word. Nika stepped in next, and the three of us stood together on that porch in the damp night air, all of us trembling a little. Or maybe it was only me.
“I kept saying it wasn’t the right time.”
“We’re sorry,” Nika whispered into my shoulder. “We’re so sorry, Mom.”
Mom. Not Jessie.
I held them the way I had through every difficult moment.
John remained at the far end of the porch, quietly giving us space. After a while, Nika eased back and looked at him with an expression balanced between sorrow and hope.
“Can we still call you Dad? Even after everything?”
John inhaled slowly. “If you’ll let me earn it. I’d be honored.”
He said his goodbyes and walked away, and the three of us stayed there in the stillness he left behind.
Mom. Not Jessie.
For illustration purposes only
The girls asked me to come back inside. To let them carry my boxes in. To let things return to how they had been before the moving truck, the rain, and the sound of the lock turning.
I studied their faces — softer now, regretful, and slightly desperate in the way people look when they realize they’ve gone too far.
And I told them the most truthful thing I could. “I forgave you the moment that door closed. But forgiveness and trust aren’t the same thing, and I can’t pretend tonight didn’t happen. I need a little time. Not forever. Just a little time.”
Nika’s eyes filled with tears. “How much time?”
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