Chapter 11: Starting Over

After getting the divorce certificate, I went south alone.

I packed my Honda Civic with everything I owned, rolling down I-75 with the windows cracked and the radio blasting old Taylor Swift songs. The state lines blurred by, one after another, until I finally reached a place where nobody knew my story.

I didn’t contact my family for three years.

I let calls go to voicemail, deleted unread texts, ignored every holiday and birthday. The silence was my shelter, my way of starting over on my own terms.

Some time ago, they got in touch, telling me Derek and Lillian were getting married.

The text was casual, almost offhand—like they were inviting me to a family BBQ, not the event that would close the book on my old life. My hands shook as I read it, but a strange calm settled over me. I knew I’d have to go.

The call was from Lillian.

Her voice was softer than I remembered, tentative. “Tessa, come back for my wedding. Only if you’re there will I feel less guilty!”

I was silent for a long time before replying, “Okay.”

The word tasted strange, but it was the only answer that made sense. Maybe forgiveness started with showing up, even if it hurt.