Leave Your Keys And Get Out,” My Father Demanded At Sunday Dinner. “this House Belongs To The Family Now.” My Mother Nodded In Agreement. I Placed The Keys On The Table And Left Quietly. The Next Morning, When The Mortgage Company Called Them About The $780,000 Transfer…

In 2022, I was overjoyed to hear about my stepmother Sophia’s pregnancy. Sophia, and painting teacher with a natural affinity for kids, had been a significant part of my life since she married my dad when I was 10. Although my parents had divorced 4 years earlier, and I harbored dreams of their reunion.

Sophia’s patience and kindness helped me adjust to our new family dynamic. Sophia and I shared numerous activities, shopping, cooking, and movie nights. She even taught me to drive, a task my mother, a busy surgeon, couldn’t find time for. Despite my mom’s demanding schedule, she loved me deeply and focused on preparing me for the future, such as college applications and career advice.

 I felt fortunate to have four supportive parents, each contributing uniquely to my upbringing. However, everything changed in 2023 during the initial CO 19 lockdowns. planned to be a short-term arrangement due to my mother’s intense hospital shifts and exposure risks. I started living continuously with my dad and Sophia. Initially, the lockdown felt almost adventurous. Schools were closed.

 Sophia was home from work and we engaged in various bonding activities like baking and starting a vegetable garden. But around 4 months into her pregnancy, Sophia’s demeanor shifted dramatically. The warm joking atmosphere soured as she began to snap over trivial matters.

 Minor infractions like leaving a cup in the living room or shoes by the door escalated into significant conflicts. This change was sudden and disheartening, transforming our home from a sanctuary into a tense environment. Confused and hurt by her altered behavior which contradicted the loving relationship we had built, I struggled to understand the cause.

 My dad suggested that I might be doing something wrong, implying that Sophia’s hostility must have a justified basis. This accusation and the ongoing stress at home led me to consider running away. Feeling isolated and unwelcome, I retreated to my room, limiting my presence in shared spaces to avoid further confrontations.

 My days became a series of strategic movements, sneaking out only when necessary and hoarding snacks and water to minimize interactions. Recently, this painful period resurfaced in my thoughts, prompting me to seek external perspectives. I’ve shared my story anonymously as I’m looking for unbiased advice and insights into my situation, which remains a perplexing and painful chapter in my life.

 Once they were done eating, I’d quickly grab whatever food I could find and head straight back to my room. That’s where I spent most of my days. Just me, my laptop, and my thoughts. I did my schoolwork online, watched Netflix, and texted my friends. Honestly, I barely changed out of my pajamas. I figured, why bother? No one was going to see me anyway. I kept to myself as much as possible.

 Once a day, usually when Sophia took a nap, I’d rush to clean the parts of the house that were my responsibility. I became obsessive about it, almost paranoid. I didn’t want to leave behind any sign that I existed. I wiped the shower after using it, made sure there weren’t any hairs left in the drain, cleaned the toothpaste from the sink, and even scrubbed the microwave and counters if I touched them. I was basically trying to become invisible.

 Still, even with me living like a ghost, Sophia always found something to get upset about. One day, she stormed into my room yelling that it smelled so bad it was making her sick. I looked around completely confused. I had cleaned everything that morning, vacuumed the floor, changed the sheets, opened the window to let in fresh air.

The only thing out of place was half a bag of chips on my desk. I pointed that out thinking it would clear things up, but instead she just burst into tears. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me,” she sobbed before running out of my room. A few minutes later, my dad came in. He looked tired like always.

 He comforted her, then came to talk to me. His excuse was the same as always. Sophia was pregnant, stressed from the lockdown, and struggling with not seeing her family. Pregnancy is hard on a woman’s body, he said for what felt like the hundth time. Her hormones are all over the place. Smells bother her.

Emotions run high. She’s scared for the baby, especially with the virus going around. I understood all that. I really did. But something felt different, like it wasn’t just about pregnancy. It felt personal, like she hated me. I asked my dad if I had done something wrong, if there was something I could change or fix, but he just told me I needed to give her more space and be more understanding.

 But how much more space could I give? I barely existed in that house anymore. My mental health started to spiral. I felt like trash, like something my dad might throw out any day. I was constantly afraid my mom, who worked at the hospital, might get sick with CO. My hair started falling out in clumps. I’d find it on my pillow in the morning in the drain after a shower.

 I lost weight because I was too anxious to eat. I couldn’t sleep and when I did, I had nightmares. Most days, I just felt numb. Some days I would stare at the wall for hours, just completely empty inside. I tried talking to my dad a few times.

 I always waited until Sophia was asleep and asked if we could talk, but it was never a good time. He always said later, but later never came. One time I tried bringing it up at dinner. I know, dumb move. Sophia stormed off and my dad gave me this disappointed look like I’d ruined the whole evening. He followed her out to comfort her like always. I texted my mom once, wanting to tell her everything, but she was working 17-hour shifts and always sounded so exhausted when she called.

 One time she asked if I was okay and I almost broke down. But then she told me about a 37-year-old patient who had died that day and I felt like my problems were nothing compared to that. So I stayed quiet. I did talk to my friends on FaceTime sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. Everyone was dealing with their own problems during co.

 My best friend was the only one who truly understood. I could talk to her for hours. She never made me feel like I was being dramatic or annoying. Honestly, without those calls, I don’t know how I would have made it through. Then one day, everything snapped. It was a Saturday in late July. I had been living like this for about 4 mo

nths. Around 7:27 a.m., I sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. I thought everyone had already eaten and gone back to their rooms. I was just scrolling through a story on my phone, waiting for my cereal to get soggy. Yeah, I’m one of those weird people who hate crunchy cereal. In that moment, I actually felt a little normal, like maybe I was allowed to exist outside my room. Then Sophia walked in.

 She sighed loudly when she saw me, like just my presence ruined her day. She was about 7 months pregnant by then, always holding her belly like she was protecting the baby from me. She started cleaning the kitchen even though it was already spotless because I had cleaned it earlier. She slammed cabinet doors and muttered under her breath about some people living in filth.

 Then out of nowhere, she grabbed my cereal bowl, an actual ceramic one, not some plastic thing, and threw the whole thing into the trash. Not just the cereal, the entire bowl. I lost it. After months of being quiet, of walking on eggshells, something inside me broke. I started yelling, asking her what her problem was with me. I called her abusive.

 I said she was trying to make me miserable, trying to push me out of the house. I asked what changed, why she hated me now when we used to get along. My dad rushed in and got between us. Sophia was crying again, clutching her stomach like I was a threat. She said she didn’t feel safe with me in the house.

 She told my dad I needed to leave. He walked me to my room, his face red with anger. Then he said something I’ll never forget. the words that ruined everything between us. “You must be doing something to her,” he said. “No one hates a kid for no reason. If you keep stressing her out, you’ll have to move out.

” Sophia and the baby are my priority now. And just like that, I realized I wasn’t. Everything changed so fast, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I was told that if I couldn’t act appropriately, I couldn’t stay in the house anymore.

 Then to make things worse, he actually said I might be jealous of the baby and just acting out because of that. It felt so unfair. I wasn’t jealous. I was struggling and nobody seemed to care. I tried to stay calm and patient. I really did. But then he said something that completely broke me. He told me I needed to grow up and start thinking about someone other than myself.

 That hurt, especially coming from the man who had watched me slowly fade into the background, becoming more withdrawn every day, and never once asked if I was okay. After he left the room, I just sat on my bed and cried. I must have been there for an hour, maybe more. Then I did something I never thought I’d do. I made a post on social media explaining everything. I told people how Sophia had changed, how my dad had taken her side, and how I didn’t feel safe or wanted there anymore.

 I asked if anyone had a place I could stay just for a while because I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t want to upset my mom, who is still in the hospital, so I figured it was better to find a temporary solution on my own. I packed a small bag, just the essentials, some clothes, my laptop, phone charger, a few personal things like my childhood teddy bear, and the necklace my mom gave me for my 15th birthday.

 I didn’t take much because part of me still believed I might be able to come back in a few days when things cooled down. Then, around 6:27 in the afternoon on a hot July day, I climbed out of my bedroom window and walked away from the only home I had ever known. As I walked down the street, I remember thinking how strange it was that everything around me looked so normal, like the world hadn’t just shattered for me. After a while, messages started pouring in.

 So many people responded to my post, offering support, asking if I was okay, even offering a place to stay. It meant more to me than I can explain. Eventually, I messaged my best friend and asked if I could come over. Without hesitation, she said yes. I turned off my phone shortly after because my dad and Sophia started calling and texting like crazy.

 I couldn’t face them. I knew if I heard my dad’s voice, I’d either break down or say something I’d regret forever. I got to friend’s house around 2:27 p.m. Her parents had always been kind to me. And when I briefly told them what happened, her mom gave me the warmest hug and told me I could stay for as long as I needed.

 They set up an air mattress in friend’s room and her mom even made my favorite meal for dinner. They didn’t force me to talk. They just let me breathe. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. Later that night, I used friend’s phone to text my mom. I let her know I was okay and explained what had happened. She didn’t respond for a while because she was in surgery most of the day, but when she finally called, she was calm.

She wasn’t angry, just worried and relieved. She said my aunt would come pick me up the next day and I could stay with her until we figured out what to do. That night, friend and I stayed up late talking. Being there where no one was glaring at me or blaming me for things I didn’t do felt like such a relief.

 I almost felt guilty for how good it felt to be away from that house. The next morning, my mom called again. She talked to friends parents to thank them, then spoke to me. She told me my dad and Sophia had been freaking out. They’d even called the police, but because I was 16 and had posted online that I was safe, the police didn’t consider it an emergency.

 My dad and Sophia had gone door to door looking for me, asking friends and family if they’d seen me. My mom reassured them I was safe and told them I’d be staying with aunt for a couple of weeks until we figured out the next steps. She told me my dad was relieved, but also really upset about the way I left and what I’d written online about Sophia. What I didn’t know at the time was that my post had caused a ripple.

 People started reaching out to my dad and Sophia, old teachers, neighbors, friends, parents. They all wanted to know what was going on and why I had felt the need to leave homes so publicly. My dad and Sophia tried to brush it off as typical teen drama, but people weren’t buying it.

 Especially my grandparents, my dad’s parents, who had always been protective of me. They were so upset when they heard what happened that they drove 6 hours just to confront my dad in person. According to my aunt, there was a huge argument. My grandfather even told my dad he had failed as a father.

 To this day, they barely speak to him because of how he treated me. Family gatherings are super tense now. I stayed with aunt for those 10 weeks. She’s my mom’s sister and has always been the cool aunt, the one who let me stay up late and watch movies. I probably shouldn’t have as a kid. Her apartment was small, but she made space for me. She turned her home office into a temporary bedroom and made sure I felt supported.

 For the first few days, nothing major happened. It was quiet. I kept waiting for some dramatic confrontation or for my dad to show up, demanding I come back, but he never did. Eventually, my aunt and I drove to the house so she could pick up more of my things. I stayed in the car while she went inside. She said, “Dad and Sophia were polite, but cold.

” A few days later, she went back alone and packed up the rest of my room. I refused to set foot in that house again. She brought back all my clothes, books, posters, everything she could fit in her car. Some bigger stuff had to stay behind, but I didn’t care. I just wanted my personal things. Somehow, even though she was swamped at work, my mom managed to take a 5we leave from the hospital.

 It was almost impossible to do during co times, but she did it anyway. She rented a small two-bedroom apartment near her work so we could start fresh. And that’s when things finally started to feel like they might be okay again. When she went back to work, I stayed with her. It wasn’t ideal.

 She still worked long hours and wasn’t home much, but it was still better than being with dad and Sophia. At least with her, I felt safe. Over the next few months, my dad tried to reach out. He called a few times, but I never answered. He sent texts saying he missed me and that Sophia was doing better. He even apologized, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. The pain was still too fresh, and I couldn’t forget what he said.

 No one hates a kid for no reason. That sentence haunted me. What kind of father says that to his child? Since then, I haven’t spoken to my dad. I’ve also never met my half brother, who’s almost four now. I’ve seen photos of him on social media. Mutual family friends still tag them sometimes.

 What’s strange is how much he looks like me when I was his age. Every time I see a picture, I feel this strange mix of curiosity and sadness. I often wonder, has anyone told him about me? Does he know he has a big sister? Sophia and my dad still try to reach out occasionally. They send cards for my birthday and Christmas, and sometimes they’ll text. Last year, they sent me an article about prenatal depression.

Something about how pregnant women can sometimes experience irrational anger toward people or pets because of hormones. I don’t know if that’s true or just an excuse. Either way, it doesn’t change what happened.

 You don’t get to treat someone like garbage for months and then expect a scientific article to magically fix it. That’s not how healing works. I’m turning 19 in 5 weeks. We’re planning a small birthday party at my mom’s house. Just close family and friends. Yesterday, my cousin’s girlfriend, Hazel, asked me if I plan to invite my dad.

 Don’t you think it’s time to mend fences? She said, “He’s still your father.” I told her, “Absolutely not.” She asked why, and I ended up telling her everything, probably more than I should have. But I needed her to understand that this wasn’t just some teenage grudge. This was deep. This was trauma. After I finished, Hazel said something that really upset me. She told me that while what they did was wrong, what I did was wrong, too.

 She said I’d made everyone worry and caused unnecessary stress. She even blamed me for putting a pregnant woman with mental health issues in a risky situation by running away and posting about it on social media instead of calling someone. “You were almost an adult,” she said. “You could have taken an Uber or called your mom.

” Then she brought up my halfb brotherther. She said it wasn’t fair that I’d never tried to meet him, that he didn’t do anything wrong. And suddenly, I started second-guessing everything. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I was the bad guy, too. After that conversation with Hazel, I decided to uninvite her for my birthday party. I was hurt.

 Her words made me feel like I should be guilty for protecting myself. My mom fully supported the decision. She said Hazel had no right to say what she did and we agreed that the party should just be close family anyway. A few days later, James came over. He looked really uncomfortable, kept messing with his phone, wouldn’t make eye contact.

 Eventually, he told me Hazel had a rough past with her own younger siblings. Apparently, she lived with her dad and her siblings lived with their mom. There was some big falling out when she was in high school and things got really bad between them. She was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder in college and went through therapy.

 Even though she’s tried to make peace with her siblings, they still won’t talk to her and it breaks her heart. James said that hearing my story triggered something in her. I guess she saw herself in both me and Sophia, like it brought back her own guilt and pain.

 After our conversation, she sent me texts, links to articles about mental health, family healing, even Reddit threads. It felt like too much. She barely knows my family, but suddenly wanted to fix everything. I didn’t respond, and I think that made her double down even harder. James told me she wanted to meet up in person to apologize. I agreed. Thinking maybe I had been too harsh, she offered to pick me up and drive to a new restaurant in the next town as a sort of pre-birth treat. It seemed sweet at first, but something felt off.

 I told my mom about it, and she immediately got suspicious. Why the next town? Why insist on driving me? Why not just meet at a local place? Turns out our instincts were right. Sophia, of all people, ended up calling my mom to warn her. She told her that Hazel had contacted her, trying to coordinate some big surprise reunion between me, Sophia, and my dad.

 That was her plan all along. I couldn’t believe it. She had no right. After that, I realized I needed closure. Not from Hazel, but from my dad. So, I wrote him a letter, a long one, seven pages. I poured everything out. I told him how his choices made me feel abandoned, betrayed, invisible.

 I told him that even now I sometimes shrink myself down in other people’s homes, trying not to be a burden because I was made to feel like one for so long. I told him I wanted a relationship with my brother someday, but I wasn’t sure I wanted one with him and that if I ever changed my mind, it would be on my terms with my mom present. I asked him to stop reaching out until I was ready.

 Writing that letter felt like releasing something heavy I’d been carrying for years. I cried while writing parts of it, but when it was done, I felt lighter. My mom dropped it off for me. She said my dad looked surprised, but took it without saying much. The next day, he asked to meet with her. They talked for about an hour. She told me later that he cried. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

 Maybe nothing, maybe something. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve taken a step toward healing on my terms. I’ve only seen my dad do something like this twice in my whole life. The other day, he and Sophia brought up the idea of me possibly meeting my brother. Then out of nowhere, my dad said he wants to buy me a car with no strings attached.

 He also mentioned that both he and Sophia wanted to give me some money for my birthday. Honestly, you guys might judge me for this, but I’m going to accept the car and the $727. If he offers more, I’m taking that, too. Why? Because college is expensive.

 Between moving into a dorm and getting all the supplies I’ll need, money is tight. I know it might look like I’m using him, but I don’t see it that way. After everything I’ve been through, this feels like the least he can do. Maybe it’s petty. Maybe it sounds materialistic, but I’m being realistic, not emotional. It doesn’t mean I forgive him. It just means I’m making smart choices for myself right now.

 My mom told me it’s entirely my decision. She said she won’t judge me no matter what I choose. Now, let’s talk about Hazel. Hazel went behind my back and contacted Sophia on Facebook. Sophia ended up sending screenshots of their conversation to my mom. In the messages, Hazel accused me of lying and exaggerating everything I said.

 Can you believe that? She was basically trying to paint me as the bad guy. To Sophia’s credit, she was honest. She admitted she treated me badly during her pregnancy and said she was diagnosed with prenatal depression and anxiety. She told my mom she was getting help now and regretted how she acted back then.

 But it was Hazel who kept pushing the idea that Sophia was the real victim. She kept saying things like, “It must have been so hard for you dealing with a teenager during a pandemic. It was super condescending.” Hazel also tried to convince Sophia to help fix the relationship between me and my dad, even though it wasn’t her place. Thankfully, Sophia shut that down.

 She told Hazel she respected my decision to stay distant and that it wasn’t up to Hazel to interfere. But then Hazel crossed a major line. She sent Sophia the location and time of a dinner we were supposed to have. She even offered to drive me there probably so I couldn’t leave. That felt really manipulative and honestly scary. Like if I had gone, I would have had to ask a waitress to call my mom or order an Uber just to get away. My mom was furious.

 She shared the screenshots in the family group chat and called Hazel out. She even said that if Hazel ever came near me again, she’d seriously regret it. And trust me, my mom doesn’t make threats unless she means it. I blocked Hazel and left the group chat, so I don’t know what happened after that. But James, my cousin and Hazel’s boyfriend, came over with my aunt. He swore he had no idea Hazel was doing all that.

 He looked really shocked when he read the messages. Still, he tried to defend her, saying she’s been under a lot of stress. That didn’t go over well. My aunt called him an idiot for dating someone so unstable, and my mom said something like, “The FF must be good if you’re willing to overlook this level of crazy.

 It got awkward fast, and James left not long after. I turned 19 and had an amazing birthday. I finally met my brother, and it went way better than I could have hoped. I also talked to my dad and Sophia. And then there was another scary run-in with Hazel. But then 5 days into the trip, my mom got a notification from our home security app. Someone was at our door.

 We checked and it was Hazel. At first, she seemed calm, asking to talk to me, but then she started bouncing between being sad and being angry. One second she was saying she just wanted to help and the next she was calling me selfish and saying I was tearing our family apart. Things escalated.

 She started yelling, making threats, and even damaging our front porch. She ripped our Ring camera off the wall. We were watching all of this happen from our hotel room. It was terrifying. My mom called our neighbors and they got the police involved. Hazel was arrested not far from our house, just sitting in her car like she was waiting.

 My mom is pressing charges for property damage and harassment. Now I understand why Hazel’s own siblings want nothing to do with her. James had made it sound like their issues were just sibling drama, but no, this was something much deeper and more dangerous. For those asking, yeah, James and Hazel broke up. He’s pretty shaken by it all and keeps texting me to apologize, saying he should have seen the signs.

 Honestly, I don’t know what to think about him right now, but I’m focusing on the good. I met my brother. I feel like I’m finally starting to heal. I’m planning for college. I’ve got a car and a little money saved now. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re better. I’m finally getting to live my life on my terms. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions lately. One of the most difficult parts has been watching my cousin James struggle.

 The whole situation with Hazel really messed him up. Even though I’ve told him over and over again that none of it was his fault and he couldn’t have possibly known how far she would go, he still carries a lot of guilt. My aunt mentioned that he’s even considering transferring to a different college.

 They currently go to the same one and he’s afraid of bumping into her on campus, which I understand. The drama really took a toll on him. But despite all of that going on, my birthday turned out to be amazing. Honestly, I had the best time ever. My mom and the rest of the family went out of their way to make my 19th birthday special, and I couldn’t be more grateful. We didn’t do anything huge or flashy.

 It was just a small gathering at my aunt’s house with the people who truly matter. Close family only. Both sets of grandparents came, although we had to arrange for my dad’s parents to come at a different time than my mom’s side to avoid any potential awkwardness or attention. But it worked out fine. My aunt and uncle were there and a few of my cousins showed up too, except for James.

 He was still working through everything with Hazel, so he decided to stay home. I completely understood. I got so many thoughtful and generous gifts, but the one that meant the most to me was from my little brother. He gave me a silver necklace with a small pendant that says, “Sister.

” It was such a simple thing, but it meant everything to me. I’m pretty sure dad or Sophia helped him pick it out, but just the fact that he gave it to me himself made my heart melt. I’ve wanted to be his big sister for so long, and now it’s finally real. He’s absolutely adorable. He loves a kid’s YouTube creator named Miss.

 I think she’s really popular with toddlers, and he’s obsessed with the color green. Everything has to be green. His cup, his plate, his shoes. It’s like green is his whole identity right now. My mom and I found out he and the neighbors cat stare each other down through the window for fun.

 It’s hilarious because I used to do the exact same thing with a cat when I stayed at dad’s house years ago. Since meeting him, I’ve been spending more and more time with him and we’re starting to really bond. He even started calling me a cute nickname. He can’t quite say my real name yet, but he asks about me when I’m not around. It’s honestly the sweetest thing ever. The first time I met him, my dad was there, too.

 I knew he would be because obviously a toddler can’t just hang out alone. I was told he would stay in the kitchen and give us space and for the most part he did. But I caught him peeking at us now and then. Not in a weird way, more like he was just overwhelmed seeing us together. You could tell it meant a lot to him.

 When I was leaving, he followed me outside to my car. At first, he didn’t say anything. He just hugged me. It was a long hug, almost a full minute, and I could tell he was holding back a lot. Then he finally told me he missed me. I hugged him back and told him I missed him too. That was the first time I had spoken directly to him in 4 years.

 After that, he apologized. Really apologized. He didn’t make excuses or blame Sophia’s condition like he had in the past. He owned up to everything. He told me he failed me as a father and said he would regret that for the rest of his life. I couldn’t help it. I just broke down and started crying. Full-on angry crying.

 I let out everything I had been holding in. The hurt, the frustration, the damage it did to my mental health. I told him that I still love him, but I can’t fully forgive him. Some wounds are just too deep, and some things you can’t take back. He asked me if he could try to be part of my life again.

 I told him we could try, but I made it clear that there were no promises. We can’t go back to how things used to be and it’s going to take time. He said he understood and that he’d respect my boundaries. To his credit, he has followed through on his word so far. He gave me a used Honda Civic for my birthday like he promised. It’s not brand new.

 The brakes squeak a little, but it runs great and the title is in my name. No strings attached. He also gave me $2,270 for my birthday instead of the $727 we had originally talked about. I’m using it for college, mostly textbooks and stuff for my dorm. My mom has been incredibly supportive through all of this.

 She told me she’s proud of me for being brave enough to give my dad another chance, but she also made it clear that if it ever gets too hard or starts to hurt me again, I can walk away. She’s not pressuring me to forgive him, and she hasn’t tried to sway me either way, which I really appreciate. When I told my dad that I got accepted to State University, which is about 5 hours away, he seemed a little sad about me moving out, but he told me he was proud of me and offered to help with the move and buying supplies. I told him I’d think about it.

 A part of me wants to keep some distance, but I also see that he’s trying, really trying, to make things right. Now, here’s something nobody expected. I was the one who reached out to Sophia. After seeing how happy and welladjusted my little brother is, I realized that maybe, just maybe, she’s doing something right as a mom.

 I had my mom call her first to say that I wanted to talk. Sophia was shocked, of course, but agreed to speak to me. When she got on the phone, there was this long, awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to say. After a few seconds, I finally broke the ice. I told her honestly and directly that after everything she put me through, after all the pain she caused, I was still willing to talk.

 I’ve come to terms with the fact that things between me and Sophia will never be what they once were. There’s been too much hurt and some damage just can’t be undone with a simple sorry. Still, I’ve decided to try being civil for my little brother’s sake, not for hers or mine. He deserves a peaceful life with his family and I don’t want to create tension at his school events or special moments.

 When Sophia reached out, she started apologizing almost immediately. She said she’s changed a lot since everything happened. According to her, she got help for the prenatal depression and anxiety she was dealing with back then. She’s been in therapy and on medication ever since my brother was born. I told her I’m genuinely glad she’s doing better.

 No child should have to grow up with a parent who’s struggling with untreated mental health issues. That’s not fair to them. We also talked about the whole situation with Hazel. Sophia seemed truly concerned and said that Hazel had contacted her out of the blue. She admitted she got a bad vibe from the start.

 Sophia even apologized again for how she treated me during her pregnancy. She said not a single day goes by where she doesn’t regret it. The call lasted about 27 minutes. We talked a little about my brother, and that was pretty much it. I haven’t spoken to her since, and honestly, I’m not in a hurry, too.

 That call happened just 8 days ago, and I still need time. Later, my dad told me Sophia cried after we hung up, not because she was sad, but because she felt relieved. Apparently, she never thought I’d even agree to speak with her, and she believed I’d hate her forever. Truthfully, I kind of do, but hatred is a heavy weight to carry, and I don’t have the energy to keep holding on to it.

 As for my dad, no, I haven’t forgiven him either. He’s going to have to put in a lot of effort if he wants to rebuild anything close to what we used to have. That said, it feels better to at least have him in my life in some small way. I do believe both he and Sophia regret how everything played out. But let me be clear.

 If I ever suspect that my little brother is being mistreated or if they start messing around again, I will step in and it won’t be gentle. I’ve told my dad that to his face. Trust is something you earn, not something that just magically comes back. And right now they’ve got a long way to go before I trust them.