“No,” I said, stepping closer. “You made it for him.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“I gave him a push.”
“You lied to an eighteen-year-old who already thought he was a burden.”
“I gave him a chance to start over.”
“You manipulated a hurt child.”
“He was legally an adult.”
I stepped even closer.
“He was still my child.”
The words rang through the room.
Marcus looked at Andrew.
“You turned out fine.”
Andrew did not answer.
“You made something of yourself. Maybe leaving was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
I stared at Marcus in disbelief.
Even now, after everything, he could not admit what he had done.
Andrew spoke quietly.
“When I wrote that note, when I said not to look for me, I meant for a few days.”
I turned to him.
“I was hurt,” he said. “I needed space. I was sitting at the bus station when the messages started.”
My chest ached.
“I read them again and again.”
He looked at Marcus.
“I kept thinking maybe he was right.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“I almost came home,” Andrew said. “I stood up once.”
He gave a small laugh, but there was no happiness in it.
“Then another message came.”
He unlocked the phone again and scrolled.
“This one.”
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