Dear Belle,
I received your letters. I read every one.
I am glad you are in therapy. I am glad you are learning to speak with your own voice. You were right in what you wroteāsafety built on lies is just a cage with softer bars.
Iām not ready to meet for coffee, and I don’t know when I will be. But I wanted you to know that I don’t carry anger toward you anymore. I carry distance, and right now, that distance is what keeps my space quiet.
If you ever want to learn how to run your own credit audit, or if you need help separating your records from the old accounts, let me know. I can send you the steps.
Take care of yourself.
Maya
I folded the note, slipped it into an envelope, and wrote her address on the front in firm, clear script.
When I stepped back onto the balcony a few minutes later, the rain had stopped entirely. The clouds were breaking over the city skyline, revealing a faint, cool strip of evening sky between the dark outlines of the buildings.
My bank balance didn’t make me rich. My name didn’t belong to a grand legacy. But when I looked at my phone, at my door key, at the simple stack of mail sitting on my counter, every single piece of my life answered only to me.
The silence in the apartment wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of a house full of secrets anymore. It was just quiet. And for the first time in my life, quiet felt like freedom.
THE END..!
