Chapter 17 - The Anniversary
It was exactly one year since I had arrived at my father’s house, shaking and broken. I woke up before dawn and went to the porch. The air was cool, the scent of damp earth and jasmine heavy in the night. My father joined me shortly after, bringing a thermos of hot tea.
"One year," I whispered.
"A lifetime, really," he corrected, looking out at the vast, darkened lawn.
May you like
We didn't speak much. We didn't need to. I thought about the woman who had arrived here—the one who couldn't sleep without a light on, the one who jumped at the sound of a closing door. I looked at the person I was now: a woman who could watch a storm, a woman who could plant a garden, a mother who could raise a daughter in peace. The transition hadn't been magic; it had been grueling, deliberate work.
I reached out and squeezed my father's hand. "Thank you for the light, Dad." He looked at me, his eyes shining in the dim morning glow. "You were the one who had to walk toward it, Emmy. I just made sure the path was clear." As the sun began to paint the horizon in shades of rose and gold, I knew I had officially crossed over.
