Two months later, my parents moved into a small rental house across town. My brother was forced to find his own place.
I sold the old family home and used part of the money to create college funds for Emma and Noah.
The next New Year’s Eve, the three of us celebrated quietly in our living room, far away from old cruelties and empty traditions.
Just before midnight, Emma smiled and asked, “Are we going to have a better year?” I kissed her forehead and said, “Yes, sweetheart. The best years begin when you stop begging for love from people who refuse to give it.”
