“You sent these?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

I looked back at the screen.

The last message had been sent just before midnight.

Do not contact her again. She will heal faster if you stay gone.

Tears spilled down my face.

For six years, I had believed my son walked away from me.

For six years, he had believed leaving me was an act of love.

Part 3:

I looked at Andrew.

“You believed him.”

He nodded.

“I already thought I was destroying everything.”

His voice was quiet.

“Then he told me you would finally be happy if I disappeared. I thought I was giving you peace. I wanted to call you so many times.”

He lowered his eyes.

“I wrote messages over the years. Dozens of them. I deleted every single one before sending. Every time I tried, I heard his words again. I thought you were better off without me.”

My legs weakened.

Before I could fall, Andrew caught me.

For the first time in six years, my son held me.

I buried my face against his shoulder and sobbed.

“You didn’t leave because of me.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” he whispered. “I thought you stopped loving me.”

“I never stopped.”

 

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