Stories

Iris had been counting down to prom for months.

AQBy Avery QuinnOctober 31, 20268 min read

I stopped.

She was right.

Adam had recognized her surname when he read the scholarship certificate.

Then he had seen her face.

He asked whether her mother was named Caroline.

When Iris said yes, he requested that the school counselor remain with them.

“He didn’t say you were terrible,” Iris told me. “He said there were things he had handled badly, and I should talk to you first.”

I swallowed.

“He gave me his contact details. Mrs. Alvarez has them too.”

She touched the bracelet on her wrist.

“He cried.”

I had no idea what to do with that information.

For years, I had kept him fixed in my mind as the man who walked away.

Now my daughter had met someone older.

Someone who might have changed.

Or might not have.

She deserved room to find out without me pretending I already knew.

“Do you still have the letter?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Get it.”

I went upstairs.

The box was on the highest shelf of my wardrobe.

Inside were photographs, old cards, and the envelope I had moved from apartment to apartment.

I brought down everything related to him.

Not just the pieces that supported my side.

Iris read the letter twice.

Then she asked Ryan to leave.

“Text me when you get home,” she told him.

He nodded.

At the door, he looked at me.

“I’m sorry about the ultimatum.”

I believed him.

He had been trying to protect someone he cared about and had mistaken taking control for helping.

I understood that mistake better than I wanted to.

Iris stayed with my sister that weekend.

She answered my messages, but briefly.

I did not send explanations disguised as apologies.

I wrote one thing.

I lied about something important. You deserved the truth. I’m sorry. I’ll answer whatever you ask, when you’re ready.