She finally looked up, and I saw something I had never noticed before: a deep, profound emptiness. “Because it was easier,” she answered with terrifying honesty. “Easier than working, than saving, than building something from scratch like you did. Easier than admitting we had ruined our lives.”
Her words hung in the air like a poison. “Goodbye, Rachel,” I said, each word a heavy stone. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
She didn’t reply. She simply followed Derek and Martin out of the room without looking back. The door closed with a soft click, and suddenly I knew my daughter was gone. The person I loved, the one I had raised, no longer existed. Perhaps she never had.
Two weeks passed. Martin confirmed that Rachel and Derek had left for Portugal. I settled into a quiet, gray routine, working on the details of the Robert Foundation by day and staring at the sea by night, trying to understand.
It was during one of those nights that Nora showed up unannounced. “Enough moping,” she declared, placing a folder on the table. “It’s time to start living again. These are key projects for the foundation. People you can help, lives you can change.”