She physically recoiled.
“You returned my letters?”
“His letters to you.”
“They were mine!”
“I know.”
“No, apparently you don’t!”
Her voice broke apart.
“You stole them.”
I wanted to say I saved them.
That I had them in a box.
That felt worse.
So I said nothing.
Lily understood my silence.
“You still have them.”
I nodded.
“How many?”
“Twenty-seven.”
She started crying so hard Noah moved toward her.
This time she let him.
He put one arm around her shoulders.
I stayed where I was.
Because reaching for her would have been about comforting myself.
“What else?”
I looked down.
“He filed for visitation twice.”
Her breathing stopped.
“What happened?”
“The first case went to mediation. We reached an agreement.”
“And?”
“He missed two weekends.”
“So you canceled everything?”
“I asked the court to modify it.”
“Did they?”
“Yes.”
“And the second time?”
“He withdrew.”
“Why?”
“He was moving again. His lawyer said—”
“Why?”
I looked at her.
“Because I told him I would fight him for full legal fees and request supervised visitation based on his inconsistency.”
Lily closed her eyes.
Noah whispered, “Jesus.”
I didn’t blame him.
My daughter opened her eyes again.
“So did he abandon me?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
It was the first fully honest answer I had ever given her about her father.
“He failed you in ways that mattered. He missed things. He gave up when he should’ve fought harder. But no, Lily.”
My voice broke.
“He did not simply abandon you.”
She nodded slowly.
