Page 37 of The Breaking Point

But I did care.

And I didn’t understand.

Chapter 15

Mom comes back with the boys about an hour later. I’ve been hanging outside my father’s room since I got back from the cafeteria. The sandwich was dry, but after fighting with my husband over breakfast, I was too hungry to care.

She pulls me aside while the boys slip into his room.

“Hey, honey,” she says gently. “How did it go?”

I look at her. “You knew.”

She doesn’t pretend. “He’s been wanting to talk to you for a while now. The heart attack finally gave him the courage. So… how did it go?”

“Not well,” I say. “He apologized less and excused himself more.”

She nods slowly. “He’s just…”

“I don’t need the speech,” I cut her off. “He already gave it to me. I’m going home.”

She follows me down the hallway. “Kate, your father loves you. Isn’t it time to… let it go?”

I jab the elevator button harder than necessary. “Let it go? Like it’s so fucking easy?”

“Watch your language,” she snaps. “I’m still your mother.”

I turn to her, my voice rising. “I’ve been swearing since I was sixteen. You know, when youabandonedme. So I’m going to say ‘fuck’ as much as I want.”

She flinches. “You are so angry all the time. When will you forgive us? What will it take? Your father nearly died.”

“And so did I,” I shoot back. “When Alex was born, I almost died. But do you know who never even showed up?”

She hesitates. “Your grandmother said you were doing fine. That you were fighting well.”

“Exactly,” I say, the words sharp. “I was fighting.Alone.While my parents were off traveling the world and my husband was…”

She cuts in, voice defensive. “Was what? Say what you want about us, but Aiden has always been there for you.”

I stare at her, too tired to yell, too full to swallow it down. I speak quietly now, no longer having the energy to keep making the same argument. “Aiden was too busy with college. Grandma was old whenIwas a kid. I was all alone.”

She looks at me then, realising this isn’t something she can undo. “We didn’t know,” she says, barely above a whisper.

The elevator door dings open.

“You never asked,” I say, stepping in.

She stays behind. The doors close, sealing me off, and my phone buzzes. It is Aiden. A short message. Just checking in.

But I stare at it, unmoving. Something has shifted. Something firm. I cannot live like this anymore. The house will be empty. The boys are here. Aiden and I will be the only ones home. We’ll have space and silence.

I decide.

Now is the time.

I take my time driving home, the afternoon sun cutting through the windshield. I need to gather my thoughts, sort through the wreckage in my mind before I walk through that door. I don’t want a divorce. But I cannot keep living this way. Not with the weight of everything I have buried pressing on my chest.

I’ve been holding it in for so long that it spills out in sudden bursts, snapping, storming, slamming doors. I need to stop it before it happens again in front of the boys. Before they start shrinking in my presence. Before they grow afraid of the silence in our home.

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