The following days were overwhelming. Jason called from different numbers, his messages shifting from anger to pleading.

I ignored them all.

Then one morning, he showed up.

Standing outside, out of place.

“Olivia, we need to talk.”

“What do you want?” I asked calmly.

“I want to fix things,” he said. “We can start over.”

“No,” I replied.

He looked stunned.

“You didn’t stand up for us when it mattered. You’re only here now because you’re losing something.”

He tried to argue, but I stopped him.

“I spent five years trying to belong in your life. You chose silence every time I needed you. Don’t pretend now that you’re different.”

He fell quiet.

Then he said softly, “He always liked you more.”

I looked at him, surprised.

“My father saw you,” he added. “I think I resented that.”

I took a slow breath.

“You could have seen me too.”

That ended everything.

He left without another word.

—

The months that followed weren’t easy.

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