Chapter 8
I heard Spencer softly choking back sobs.
He held the glass of water, but his hands shook so violently that water splashed over the rim.
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I said softly, “Everyone must take responsibility for their own choices. You’re long past the age of acting childish. I never chose to abandon you. It was you who abandoned me first.”
I gently pulled the glass of water from Spencer’s trembling hands and set it firmly on the nightstand.
As I stood up, Spencer desperately reached out and clutched my arm.
I watched the veins bulge on the back of his hand as I listened to his helpless, choked sobs.
But I simply reached out and pushed him away.
I stood up and calmly looked down at him. “From now on, I don’t want to see you again. And I hope you’ll stop these meaningless, foolish actions.”
I saw his tears suddenly roll down his cheeks.
I walked out of the hospital room and firmly closed the door behind me.
As I turned to leave, I spotted Caleb standing in the hallway.
He stood at a measured distance, watching me intently.
Only then did I realize how haggard he looked.
Though not yet 40, streaks of gray were already visible at his temples.
His face looked unkempt, with stubble visibly covering his chin.
He took two steps closer to me, yet carefully maintained his distance.
He hesitated, his voice awkward and tentative. “Spencer can’t live without you. Even if we can’t be husband and wife anymore, could we… maybe still be something like family?
“We could co–parent him, see each other from time to time, maybe even share a meal once in a while.”
I said evenly, “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already explained things clearly to Spencer. I don’t think he’ll come here again to cause you any more trouble.”
Caleb stammered in flustered desperation, “That’s not my concern, Isabelle. I… I want to be with you. I… I can’t live without you.
“I’m sorry. To get back at the Burns family, I did a lot of things that hurt you. But there was never anything inappropriate between Isadora and me.
12:45 Thu, Sep 25
Chapter 8
:
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“After all these years… I’ve truly loved you. Isabelle, could you give me one more chance? I swear I’ll never ever treat you that way again.”
Caleb took another step toward me.
I frowned, taking an impatient step back. “Caleb, don’t make me hate you any more.”
Caleb froze in his tracks.
After a long moment, he stepped aside, his face now etched with nothing but defeat and anguish. “I’m sorry… I understand.”
I walked past him.
The moment we passed each other, I heard Caleb’s voice, thick with sorrow. “Isabelle… I’m sorry.”
Without a backward glance, I walked away.
“It’s all in the past now,” I muttered.
I might have let go of the past, but that didn’t mean I’d forgiven him.
I wasn’t going to pretend to be magnanimous and say, “It’s okay.”
I went home.
My father had just returned from his delivery run, his truck pulling into the front yard almost at the same time as I arrived.
Though already in his fifties, he still insisted on keeping up with this line of work.
Back when Caleb and I were on decent terms, he had actually joined me in trying to talk my father out of his delivery job during one of his rare visits to my hometown.
But my father just smiled and said to me privately, “Our family’s roots are here. As long as I keep earning this honest living, you’ll always have a home to return to.”
My father knew my relationship with Caleb was rocky, and we probably wouldn’t last.
As I watched my father climb down from the truck, tears suddenly welled up in my eyes.
With a beaming smile, he began unloading all sorts of bags from the truck and said, “Tonight, I’m cooking up a big feast for you. We’re going to celebrate!”
I smiled as I helped my father carry the stuff. “Are we celebrating my students‘ big win at the competition?”
My father corrected me with mock seriousness, “No. We’re celebrating you, for winning the Outstanding Instructor award.”
I froze for a second.
12:45 Thu, Sep 25
Chapter 8
Looking down at the award certificate in my hands, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The next day was New Year’s Day.
Outside the window, fireworks crackled in the night. Some kids were probably celebrating early.
My father and I sat by the window, sharing a New Year’s Eve dinner.
The fireworks, the dinner table, and the night felt hauntingly familiar.
For a moment, it felt as if I was transported back to when Spencer was six.
The four of us–Spencer, Caleb, my father, and I–had celebrated New Year’s Eve together here.
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At the dinner table, Spencer had raised his glass and, using his newly learned words, said, “Granddad, I hope you live a long life. And Mommy, Daddy, may your marriage stay sweet.”
My cheeks flushed.
Caleb sat beside me at the table. Suddenly, under the table, he reached out and gently took my hand in his.
Those brief, tender moments between Caleb and me had always been far too few.
The past wasn’t all bad. It just wasn’t what I’d hoped for.
I poured my father a drink, then raised my glass and clinked it against his.
Turning toward the fireworks outside the window, I raised my glass again, wishing him good health.
I also silently wished for peace and joy to be with me, year after year, for the rest of my life.
AD
