“Don’t take it that way?—”
“The reality is, you and Mama were not good parents to me.”
Daddy went silent and you could hear a pin drop in the room.
“You sat back, passive, Daddy. Like your family didn’t have just as much money as Mama. You let her push us, you let her run Laurene away. You let her push Gigi away. You watched her burn me out, and you didn’t do a damn thing.”
He bowed his head. Quiet. Not arguing. Just listening.
“Only Erik got to be his own person. Was it because he’s a boy? Because he’s the firstborn?”
His eyes flicked up at that. But I wasn’t done.
“I’ve spent my whole life chasing your approval. Sacrificing my joy for a nod, a pat on the back. I never got to make a choice that was justmine.” I swallowed. “But now I have. I chose Miles. I chose me. And for once, I don’t care if you or Mama approve.”
His face was unreadable. And I hated how much I still looked for the flicker of emotion in it.
“I’m tired,” I said at last. “And I’m done pretending that all this didn’t hurt.”
Daddy made a face but nodded. “I’m going to tell you, like I told your sister Laurene on her wedding day. You are right.”
I glared at him.
“We were not good parents to you.”
That hit me like a ton of bricks; the force of it left me breathless and stunned.
“We haven’t been good to all of you,” he said, voice lower now. “We watched you shape yourself around this family.Around your mother. Around what people expected. And we let you.”
He didn’t look at me when he said it. He stared off like he was ashamed. Like he couldn’t bear to see what it did to me.
“You learned to survive in two worlds—one for us, one for everyone else. You didn’t complain, and we took that as permission. We thought your silence meant you were okay with how things were.”
Then slowly, he rose from his chair. I stiffened as he stepped around the coffee table and knelt down beside me.
He reached for my hand first, then pulled me into a hug. Not the kind I was used to—stiff, short, impersonal. This one stayed. Doughboy meowed between us.
I didn’t hug him back at first. My hands were still curled in my lap.
“So I had to break for you to notice?” I asked, bitter and small.
His voice cracked. “I think you’ve been breaking for a long time. We just chose not to see it.”
That hit deep. Too deep.
“You’ve done enough,” he said into my hair. “You are enough, Serena. You always have been.”
I swallowed, emotion hitting me harder than I wanted. I didn’t like this feeling.
“I’m gonna go on a sabbatical, once we finish renovations. I…need to be away for a while.”
His hand stilled on my back.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. I could feel the hesitation in him—the way his breath caught, the way his fingers gently curled into the fabric of my shirt like he didn’t want to let go just yet.
“A sabbatical,” he repeated.
Then he pulled back enough to look at me. His eyes were glassy.
