He looked damaged.

Dad saw us and stood too quickly. “Kayla.”

Mom looked at him. “You’ve been busy.”

He swallowed. “It didn’t go the way I expected. I made mistakes.”

Ben let out a short laugh. “You think?”

Dad ignored him. He kept his eyes on Mom. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

There it was again. The same arrogance. The belief she would still meet him where he stood.

Lydia said nothing. She just watched.

Mom stepped further into the room.

“Talk about what?”

He licked his lips. “About us.”

“There is no us.”

His face twitched. “Kayla—”

“No. You don’t get to come back because your little performance fell apart.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

She looked at him with a fierceness that made even me straighten. “You told me I had expired.”

He looked away. “I was angry.”

“You were a self-centered jerk. You still are.”

Lydia crossed her arms, silent.

Dad tried again. “I just thought… I thought I could start over.”

Mom didn’t change expression. “You didn’t leave because I expired. You left because you thought you never would.”

The room went completely still.

For the first time in my life, I saw my father with nothing left—no script, no image, no angle. Just a small, foolish man sitting in the wreckage of his own vanity.

Mom took a slow breath. “I hope you survive what you chose. But I am not part of your solution.”

Then she turned and walked out. I followed, then Nora, Ben, and the others.

Outside, the night air felt sharp and clean. Mom stood beside the car for a moment, her face tilted toward the sky. She smiled—and it was the strongest, strangest smile I had ever seen on her.

For the first time in my life, she didn’t leave any part of herself behind.