She pulled it from her bag with a smirk only I noticed. I knew. It was a setup. A way to make me small. To humiliate me in front of everyone.
The family gathered their bags like it was a holiday, smiling and shouting their goodbyes.
Lester, pretending to be kind: “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll bring you a fridge magnet.”
Loisa added, “And I’ll bring you a keychain.”
“We’ll bring you dirty laundry, Grandma.” The twins laughed and even pushed their tongues out.
Their words hit like knives, soft but sharp.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Silence.
I didn’t wait. Didn’t cry. I walked straight to the bedroom, dropped to my knees, and dragged my old bag out from under the bed. I grabbed it. Zipped it. Left everything else behind.
I took a cab and went straight to the airport.
Then my phone buzzed.
Edmund.
> Guard the house while we’re gone. We’ll be out for a week. Don’t mess anything up.
Another message followed instantly.
> Sorry I slapped you. But you provoked me. If only you weren’t always so damn jealous. You ruin things for yourself.
I stared at the words, the gall of it. A man who’d used his hands to silence me now using words to rewrite history. Still blaming me for his cruelty.
I smiled — not out of joy, but clarity.
Then I blocked his number.
Deleted the thread. Gone.
I slipped the phone into my coat pocket, stepped onto the plane, and didn’t look back once.
I was done guarding a house that had never been a home. I was going back to the only place that ever was.
Home.
