“Who was at the door, peanut?” my mom asks tiredly before looking over to the door where I stand frozen.
“Ana?” A gasp of disbelief comes from her. My eyes are blurry with tears, but I can tell by the way she runs over to me and pulls me into her arms that she missed me.
“I never thought I would see you again,” she cries.
“You told me to never come back,” I whisper hoarsely.
“I have had lots of time to come to regret everything we ever said to you all those years ago. We knew we were wrong right away, but we figured you would be happier with us out of your life,” she cries.
“I thought you guys meant it when you said you never wanted to see me again. That I wasn’t your daughter. Do you understand how lonely that is?” I choke out.
“I’m so sorry,” she breaks.
I hold her until she stops crying. I then walk over to the bed to see my father for the first time in years.
He’s sleeping, but I take a seat beside him. I grab his hand in mine; it’s cold and weak.
“D-daddy,” I cry, and my head drops onto the bed as I give into the sobs.
Everything in my life comes crashing down at once, and the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
My marriage is over, and my father is dying. I am losing far more than I had thought I would.
How did this become my life?
Why am I meant to feel so much pain?
I feel a hand in my hair. I don’t know how long I have been crying for. Could be minutes, could be hours, but I know that my face is probably swollen and red.
I look up and see my dad staring back at me.
“My girl. I’m so glad you are home,” he says softly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I cry.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he states.
“I would have forgiven you, and I would have always wanted to come say good-bye,” I tell him.
“Why did you come home?” he asks me.
“Because I think my marriage is over,” I say with a sob.
“Oh, my girl. You didn’t fight us that hard for that man for it to end after only five years,” he says softly.
“I fought as long as I could before I couldn’t fight anymore. After a while, it didn’t feel like there was anything left to fight for,” I tell my family. At some point, my mother and sister had also grabbed seats.
“That man isn’t just going to let you go. I saw that back then, and I know it now,” my mom says.
“We had a huge fight, and I told him I wanted a divorce before leaving to come here. I didn’t know if I could even come home; I was just desperate to not be alone,” I tell them.
“So, we should expect an angry biker knocking on our door any moment now,” my sister says with a small chuckle.
“I doubt it,” I say shrugging my shoulders. “I told his brothers to make sure he didn’t follow me. Who knows if he would think that I would ever come back here. That’s if he even cares enough about me anymore to follow,” I say sadly.
“He will,” my dad says before he closes his eyes to sleep.
I sit with him for a couple hours before I head to my old room. My mother and sister insisted that I stay with them.
