Ik knikte, terwijl ik Ethans hand nog steeds vasthield. Ik was nog niet klaar om een excuus te accepteren, nog niet, maar ik waardeerde dat de stilte eindelijk in mijn voordeel was doorbroken, niet tegen mij.
Linda kwam als volgende naar haar toe. Voor het eerst was haar houding niet stijf van trots of superioriteit. Ze zag er ouder, moe en geschokt uit.
“Olivia,” she said softly, “I owe you… more than an apology.”
I didn’t reply. I just waited.
She swallowed hard. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. I shouldn’t have let my anger over a broken marriage fall on you. And I shouldn’t have encouraged others to treat you like a stranger. I thought I was protecting my son.”
Her voice cracked. “But it turns out he was the one hiding the most.”
Ethan squeezed my hand gently. I could feel him watching, listening, trying to make sense of the adults’ jumbled emotions.
“I appreciate your apology,” I said, “but I hope you understand why I won’t pretend this didn’t happen. Not for me, and not for him.”
Linda nodded slowly. “I understand.”
Behind us, the door burst open. Mark came out, his face flushed with anger. “So that’s it? Everyone’s on her side now? Over something a kid misunderstood?”
But he didn’t sound confident. He sounded desperate. For years, I’d controlled the narrative, painting myself as the unstable one, the dramatic one, the problem. Now, with a few truthful words from Ethan, that carefully constructed image had shattered.
Linda turned to her son. “Mark, you told me she destroyed your marriage.”
“I didn’t…” he began.
But his brother interrupted him. “Man, you told all of us that.”
