Chapter 3: Standing Tall in the Fire

Today. My daughter's eighteenth birthday. Again.

Laughter drifted from the living room. The clatter of dishes. Everything just as it was—before it all went wrong.

A loving mother. A daughter who still smiled.

The house felt alive. Light and noise everywhere. For a second, I let myself believe things could be different.

I held a birthday present in my hand.

Carefully wrapped. Sharp corners. Blue ribbon. I ran my thumb over the paper.

It was an invitation to a prestigious winter camp in Vermont, something I’d pulled every string to get.

I’d called in every favor. Stayed up late, filling out forms. It felt like a golden ticket—one I’d bled for.

All the kids there were from big-name families. Being smart was just the start.

A place where last names mattered. Where family trees meant as much as grades. I hoped it would open doors for her.

This was how she met important people. How she started her business.

I remembered the pride in her eyes. The way she glowed on magazine covers. It all started with this.

"Mason, quit dawdling! Savannah’s about to make her wish!"

Gabrielle’s voice cut through my thoughts. Sharp. Impatient. I tucked the present under my arm and headed out.

I headed for the living room, answering my wife’s call.

I tried to smooth my hair. Put on a smile. The tension was thick. Everyone looked up.

Just like last time, I killed the mood. Like pouring cold water on a party.

It was like my presence reminded them of something sour. The room got quiet. Every eye on me.

I always gave in.

It was a habit. Swallow my pride. Let her have the last word.

I brought her parents to live with us in their old age, even let Savannah take her mom’s last name.

Supposed to be a gesture of love. But it felt like I was giving up pieces of myself.

I wasn’t technically a guest in my own home, but it felt like it.

I paid the bills. Did the chores. Played the part. Still felt like a guest.

Her parents still didn’t like me.

I could never win them over. Every compliment, backhanded. Every smile, tinged with disapproval.

Maybe that’s why Savannah was always so cold. She called me an outsider.

She picked up on their jabs. Their sighs. Started echoing them. Treating me like a stranger.

She barely glanced at me, then put her hands together.

She barely looked at me. Teenage boredom all over her face. She closed her eyes.

"Please let my grandparents live a long, healthy life!"

Her voice was clear. Her grandparents squeezed her hands.

"And let my mom stay beautiful and never get old."

Her mom grinned, blowing her a kiss. The room filled with laughter.

Her grandparents and mom clapped, faces full of pride.

Their smiles were wide. Their eyes shining. I felt invisible.

Everyone handed her gifts.

Boxes wrapped in shiny paper. Ribbons. Gift bags. The table overflowing.

Her grandparents gave her skincare products.

She squealed, hugging the box. Her grandmother winked.

Her mom gave her a brand-name lipstick.

She uncapped it, swiped some on her hand. The color was bold. She grinned.

Savannah kissed each of them on the cheek.

She moved from one to the next, kissing them. The room buzzed with warmth.

She leaned in to blow out the candles.

She leaned in, cheeks puffed. The candles flickered.

My mother-in-law grabbed her hand and shot me a look.

Her eyes sent a silent message. Don’t forget the outsider. She squeezed Savannah’s hand.

Her look said: If you don’t wish for him, he’ll make a scene.

It was a keep-the-peace look. Savannah rolled her eyes and nodded.

She put her hands together again, sighing.

Her shoulders slumped. Lips pressed tight. She took a breath.

"I wish you two would just get divorced already. And Dad, stay out of our lives!"

Her words were sharp. Almost rehearsed. The room went quiet.

The exact same words as before.

Déjà vu. Like watching a car crash you’d already survived. My heart thudded, but I was ready.

But this time, I didn’t fall apart.

I kept my face calm. My hands steady. Something shifted inside me.

I didn’t kneel. Didn’t beg for her approval.

No more humiliating myself. I stood tall.

Gabrielle laughed, sharp and mean. "That's what you get for being so strict with her. Now she's not close to you—serves you right!"

Her laughter was brittle. Forced. It didn’t sting like before.

My in-laws joined in.

They chimed in. Voices dripping with judgment.

"She’s grown up now. She knows who really loves her. Not like some people who just pretend."

My father-in-law’s voice was smug. My mother-in-law crossed her arms.

"If her dad was someone else, Savannah would be even more successful."

The jab landed. I let it slide.

I just nodded.

I took a breath. Met their eyes.

"Well, it’s your birthday wish. No reason not to grant it. Let’s get divorced."

The words hung in the air. Heavy. No one moved.

Everything stopped.

You could hear a pin drop. Even the dog looked up.

They all sneered.

Disbelief. Annoyance. They didn’t expect me to call their bluff.

She leaned back, arms folded. Smirk on her lips. "Wow, first time you’ve been so decisive. Fine, let’s do the paperwork tomorrow."

I shook my head. "No, I’m busy tomorrow."

I kept my voice even. Watched confusion flicker in her eyes.

They laughed louder.

Forced laughter. My daughter rolled her eyes. My in-laws exchanged glances.

"Here we go. More excuses. Just admit you don’t want a divorce. Control freak."

She tossed her hair. Sarcasm all over her face.

"What I mean is, it’s only noon. We can get divorced this afternoon."

I spoke slowly. The room went silent.

"Quit pretending. I’d believe hell would freeze over before you’d actually go through with it. Just give Savannah her gift."

She snatched the present from my hands.

Her grip was tight. She handed it to Savannah.

"It’s flat—bet it’s some cheap junk. I don’t want it."

She tore at the paper. Lips curled in disdain.

She ripped the box open.

Wrapping paper fluttered to the floor. She barely looked at the contents.

An invitation slipped out.

It slid onto her lap. For a moment, she didn’t recognize it.

Her eyes lit up.

She gasped. Clutched the ticket. For a second, I saw the little girl she used to be.

"It's a ticket to the Sion Winter Camp!"

Her voice was breathless. The room buzzed. Everyone leaned in.

I leaned in.

I plucked it from her hands. The shock on her face was almost funny.

"If you don’t want me as your dad, you don’t get my stuff."

My voice was calm, but hard. Realization dawned on their faces.

Their smiles vanished.

The room went cold. Even the dog slunk away.

"What’s your problem? Why do you always make everything a big deal? She’s your daughter! Who else would you give it to?"

Her voice was sharp. She glared at me.

"You must have someone else. Typical small-town guy—men like you are all the same."

She spat the words. I’d heard it before.

I’d heard it a thousand times.

Every time, it hurt. Now, it just felt tired.

It used to make me furious—enough to cry.

I used to lie awake, replaying their words. Now, I just felt numb.

For my child, I always put up with it.

I thought it was the price of being a dad.

In the end, my patience was a joke.

They laughed behind my back. Called me weak.

So why keep going?

The question echoed. I was done.

"Enough talk. Are we getting divorced or not?"

I looked them in the eye. My voice was steady.

Gabrielle started to speak, but Savannah jumped up.

She slammed her hands on the table. Face red. Voice shaking.

"Screw you, old man! Mom, divorce him! It’s just a stupid ticket. If he can get it, why can’t you or Grandma?"

Her words were harsh. But I saw the desperation.

Her nostrils flared. Eyes blazing.

She glared at me. Hands clenched.

She’d always said things like this.

She always found ways to put me down. Her armor.

She’d say her mom was a city girl, a college grad, born to better things.

She bragged about her mom’s pedigree. Wore it like a badge.

Her grandparents were retired teachers. Educated.

She pointed to their diplomas. Their bookshelves. She’d tell anyone she came from good stock.

Just me—a country boy with a community college degree. Never looked the part.

She never let me forget it. Every holiday, every gathering.

They treated my years of effort like nothing.

They dismissed my hard work. My sacrifices.

I always thought, once Savannah saw more of the world, she’d get it.

I thought time would help. That she’d see what I’d done.

So I used this ticket to send her out.

I hoped it would open her eyes. Instead, it pushed her away.

In the end, she left me. Alone in a basement apartment.

All my dreams for her came true. Except the one where she came back.

Pathetic.

The word echoed. Bitter and sharp.

I didn’t argue.

I let their words wash over me.

"Of course. You’re all so capable. You’ll get it."

My voice was calm. Doubt flickered in their eyes.

They looked uneasy. Hesitated.

For the first time, I saw uncertainty in their eyes. Maybe they realized they’d gone too far.

I took a deep breath. "We’ll split everything fifty-fifty. Savannah goes with you. That’s it."

I spoke with finality. Turned and walked away.