One week later, I found myself in a modest but comfortable apartment on the other side of town. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. My daughter’s words still rang in my ears as a constant reminder of how quickly things had changed. I had always imagined that I’d spend my later years surrounded by family, cherished and respected. Instead, I found myself alone, a new chapter of life unfolding before me, one I hadn’t anticipated.
The first few days after leaving were filled with a mixture of emotions—anger, sadness, but also a peculiar sense of freedom. I spent my mornings at the local park, sipping coffee as I watched the world go by. Without the responsibility of maintaining a house or catering to someone else’s whims, I realized how much more time I had to rediscover the simple joys of life.
It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of me. My phone had been buzzing incessantly, and when I finally picked it up, I was met with 22 missed calls from Tiffany. I hesitated before calling her back, unsure of what to expect. Was she calling to apologize, or was it yet another demand or complaint?
