My father.
Julian stood across from me, watching.
For once, he did not interrupt.
Maybe he saw something in my expression.
Maybe he realized this was bigger than the argument between us.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
I folded the note carefully.
My hands still felt unsteady.
“My mother disappeared when I was sixteen.”
Julian’s eyebrows lifted.
“You never told me that.”
“I don’t talk about it.”
“Why?”
I looked at the photograph.
A younger version of myself stared back at me.
Sixteen years old.
A girl who still believed every family had a place they belonged.
A girl who had no idea how quickly a life could change.
“Because I never knew how to explain it.”
I walked toward the kitchen table and sat down.
Julian remained standing.
“The official story was that she left,” I said.
“Left?”
“Yes.”
The word felt bitter.
“My father told everyone she needed space. That she wanted a different life. That she abandoned us.”
