My sister announced in the family group chat that I was officially banned from the reunion—and made it clear no one was to tell me where it would be. I didn’t argue. I didn’t reply. I simply opened the location pin… and laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth.

My footsteps sound different now than they did when I climbed them earlier with law enforcement behind me. Softer. Private again.

On the top floor, the master suite still holds the cool clean scent of cedar, linen, and sea air. The balcony doors are open. She must have gone out there. My mother. Stood where I stand now, perhaps imagining herself in possession of a life she never built.

I walk out onto the balcony.

The sun is lowering into evening, washing the horizon in apricot, pink, and a pale gold that seems to melt into the water. The ocean stretches vast and indifferent, which I have always found comforting. Indifference, unlike cruelty, is not personal. The waves break and reform and break again whether families disintegrate or reconcile or lie about everything forever.

Salt air fills my lungs.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

A text.

Unknown number.

But I know before opening it.

This is your father. I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I should have stood up for you.

I read it twice.

Then I delete it.