Living in the truck, the day labor, the cold mornings, and the empty feeling in my chest sometimes. I’m glad she found you. Me, too, sweetheart. And I was. Not because of the money, not because of the justice, but because my daughter was safe and happy and she’d learned something important. That doing the right thing matters even when it’s hard.
That standing up for yourself isn’t selfish. That family is more than blood. It’s who shows up when everything falls apart. Jennifer still calls sometimes checking in. She’s become a friend. She’s godmother to Lily now, though we laugh about the irony. The lawyer who saved us becoming family. I still drive past the old apartment building sometimes.
New owners, fresh paint, the unit’s all renovated. It looks good. I’m glad someone’s taking care of it. But I don’t miss it. I don’t miss any of it. I’m home now in the cabin I built with the daughter I fought for. And every morning when the sun comes up over the valley and turns the lake golden, I remember what I learned. That rock bottom is a foundation if you’re strong enough to build on it.
The Chens tried to erase me. Instead, they taught me who I really was. And I’m still here.
