Chapter 10 - THE FREEDOM OF NO REGRETS
Six months later. Spring had arrived.
Our backyard was bursting with green. The greenhouse was fully built—a sleek, gorgeous structure of glass and dark cedar wood standing near the edge of our garden. Sienna’s lemon saplings were already thriving inside, their bright green leaves soaking up the afternoon sun.
I was sitting on our back patio, working on my laptop, enjoying the quiet warmth of the May breeze.
My phone chimed on the table. It was a text from an unlisted number.
I opened it. It was a photo sent without text.
The image showed my mother sitting on a small, worn plastic chair on the tiny concrete balcony of her new apartment. She was wearing a faded cardigan, looking out over the metal chain-link fence toward the nearby railway line. She looked old. She looked lonely.
A second text followed immediately from the same number—clearly sent from my father’s old phone:
Nora. Your mother had a mild blood pressure scare yesterday. The doctor says she needs to avoid stress. She doesn't have much left. She asks about you sometimes. Please... can we just reset everything? We don't have to talk about the past. Just come visit us once.
I stared at the image on the screen for a long time.
Old Nora—the girl who had spent thirty years bleeding herself dry to earn a crumb of affection from the woman on that balcony—felt a tiny, faint echo of nostalgia.
But then I looked up from my phone screen.
Through the clear glass walls of the backyard greenhouse, I saw Sienna and Ben. Sienna was holding a red watering can, laughing hysterically as Ben accidentally sprayed himself with the garden hose. Her laughter echoed across the quiet lawn—bright, unburdened, and completely free of doubt.
I looked back down at the screen.
I didn't feel anger anymore. I didn't feel vengeance. I didn't even feel bitterness.
All I felt was a profound, unshakeable sense of clarity.
My mother hadn't changed. If I walked back into her life today, she would accept my money, use my presence to soothe her wounded ego, and eventually find a way to make Sienna feel lesser all over again. Narcissists don't seek reconciliation because they have seen the light; they seek reconciliation because they have run out of resources.
I tapped the screen. I didn't write a long, painful reply. I didn't send angry recriminations.
I simply typed five final words:
I wish you both peace.
I pressed send.
May you like
Then, I tapped the settings icon, selected the number, and pressed Block Contact.
I closed my laptop, stood up from the patio table, and walked out into the warm spring sunshine toward the greenhouse, where the people who actually loved me were waiting.
