“Maybe you should leave,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Maybe… you’re better off without me.”
Packing that night was a blur. My hands shook as I stuffed clothes in a bag, my mind spinning with anger, hurt, and confusion.
Then I saw Thea’s diary on the nightstand, half-open like it was waiting. I didn’t mean to look, but the scribbled words caught my eye. The first lines stopped me cold.
Thea’s diary told how Raina worked the courts to take custody of eight-year-old Thea, even though she begged to stay with her dad. Once she had her, Raina treated her terribly. The stories sounded like a nightmare.
But the worst part was at the end. Thea wrote about Raina’s hidden threats to repeat it. If Thea didn’t obey, Raina could take our future kids, just like she’d taken Thea from her dad.
My hands shook as I set it down, heart breaking. Thea wasn’t weak; she was scared. Raina’s control had ruined her life, and she thought she couldn’t escape—not for herself or our family.
The bedroom door creaked behind me. I turned to see Thea standing there, face pale, eyes wide at the diary. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, voice shaking.
“Why carry this alone?”
She sank to the floor, sobbing. “Because she’ll destroy everything, Holden. She always does.”
“No,” I said firmly, kneeling to meet her eyes.
“Not this time. We’re leaving, Thea. Together.”
The talk with Raina was just as bad as I expected.
When I called to say we were returning the house, her voice dripped with poison. “You ungrateful boy,” she hissed. “You think you can escape me?”
“I know I can,” I said calmly.
“You don’t own us, Raina. Not anymore.”
Her threats meant nothing, and I finally saw her: powerless if we didn’t obey. A year later, I stood on the balcony of our tiny apartment, watching Thea water her potted plants she’d insisted on bringing.
She looked lighter, freer than ever. Therapy was helping her heal from her mom’s grip, and though scars remained, they were fading. “We did it,” she said softly, taking my hand.
I nodded, pulling her close. “Yeah. We did.”
Life wasn’t perfect, but it was ours.
And that was enough.
