The wind moved through the trees. And I understood something clearly. The real inheritance was never the house on Magnolia Ridge. It was the courage to stop carrying burdens that were never mine.
That night in the kitchen of my townhouse, Dylan cooked dinner while my phone stayed silent. For the first time since that Tuesday in June, I realized something important.
The ending I once hoped for wasn’t an apology from my parents. It was the peace of knowing my life no longer depended on one.