The fire destroyed most of the house, and we moved into a rental home for the next several months.

Everything changed after that night.

I stopped asking my parents for help, stopped sharing my secrets, and stopped believing I mattered to them as much as Noah did.

A year later, Dad suggested family therapy. I agreed, and during our first session, I finally said the words I had been carrying since the fire: “I know you loved me. I just learned that if you had to choose, you wouldn’t choose me.”-