His eyes became wet.
“Amara, I am sorry.”
I had imagined hearing those words countless times.
In my imagination, I would have broken down. I would have asked him why he had hurt me. I would have demanded that he explain how he could abandon the woman who had supported him through everything.
But standing there, looking at him, I felt something different.
I felt the sadness of remembering who I had once been.
I no longer wanted to be that woman again.
“I’m not going to pretend that what you did was acceptable,” I told him. “But I will not spend the rest of my life hating you. Grace deserves better than to become the center of a war between her parents.”
He nodded.
“Can I see her?”
“Not today. We need to agree on what that will look like first.”
He looked disappointed, but he did not argue.
