Lost in thought, I almost didn’t feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw 22 missed calls from Tiffany. A wave of worry washed over me. Was everything alright? Had something happened? My finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. After all, it had only been a week since they had told me to leave.

Finally, I tapped the screen, and the phone rang only once before she picked up. “Dad!” Her voice was breathless, urgent. “Dad, I’m sorry. We’re sorry. Please, can we talk?”

I hesitated, caught off guard by the apology. “Tiffany, I don’t know…”

“Please,” she interrupted, voice cracking. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. I didn’t see it back then, but you were right. Harry…he’s been out of line, and I’ve allowed it. I shouldn’t have sided with him like that. I miss you.”

The sincerity in her voice touched something deep inside. Perhaps it was the vulnerability I heard, or the acknowledgment of her own mistakes, but it softened the hurt I’d been carrying. “Alright,” I said, my voice steady. “We can talk.”

Later that day, Tiffany came over. She looked older, weighed down by remorse and realization. We sat in my small living room, the same warm afternoon light filtering through the curtains. It felt as though the universe was offering a second chance.

“Dad, I’ve told Harry he needs to apologize too,” she said, her eyes searching mine for forgiveness. “I was wrong to put you in that position. He needs to respect you, and so do I.”

Hearing those words was like a balm to the raw edges of my heart. We talked for hours, about past hurts, future hopes, and the need for boundaries and respect. It wasn’t easy, and there was still much to mend, but it was a start.

By the time Tiffany left, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to bridge the gaps between us. As I closed the door behind her, I felt a sense of peace. Life was not perfect, but it was moving in the right direction. And for now, that was enough.