—apologies, excuses, and pitiful attempts to placate me. But I ignored them all. I wasn’t interested in their half-hearted regrets or empty words. I had a silent promise to keep, one to my son and myself—never to let people like Derek or my father define what strength should look like for Lucas or me.
As the sun rose, painting the morning sky with shades of gold, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find my father standing there, a rare look of vulnerability etched across his usually stern features. His eyes darted nervously around, as if he feared being seen, and he shifted anxiously on the threshold.
“Virge,” he started, his voice unsteady. “We need to talk about Derek. He’s in trouble at work and… well, they’re considering letting him go.”
