Chapter 7: The Dinner
They chose a quiet restaurant with low lighting and enough space between tables that the graduation gowns folded over the backs of chairs did not draw constant attention. Ava ordered for the table with the same decisive energy she brought to everything. Claire kept sliding the bread basket toward me as if feeding me were still part of the day’s assignment. June watched the two of them with the faint private smile she reserved for family and then looked at me over her water glass.
“You’re allowed to say something, you know,” she said. “You’ve been quieter than usual since the courtyard.”
May you like
I set my fork down. The letter sat in the inside pocket of my jacket, a thin rectangular weight against my chest. “I’m still catching up,” I admitted. “I spent twenty-two years thinking the only version of the story that mattered was the one we lived. I didn’t know there was another page waiting.”
Ava leaned forward. “There wasn’t another page that changed anything important. He left. You stayed. The letter just proves he eventually understood the difference. We already did.”
