I covered my mouth.
Across the table, Nora quietly wiped away tears.
“But eventually,” Liam continued, “I realized the problem wasn’t me.”
He looked directly at Greg.
“It was the dream you refused to let go of.”
Greg finally spoke.
“It’s not that I didn’t love you…”
“I know.”
Liam nodded.
“But love isn’t something people are supposed to guess.”
The sentence seemed to knock the air out of Greg.
“You told Mom she ruined your life.”
Greg looked horrified.
“I…”
“You said you didn’t ask for this life.”
“I was angry.”
“For eighteen years?”
Greg had no answer.
Liam reached toward the side of his wheelchair.
“I’ve actually been keeping something.”
He pulled out a neatly folded stack of papers.
“I started writing when I was ten.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“You write?” I whispered.
He smiled.
“Every birthday.”
He unfolded the first page.
“I wrote letters to myself.”
Greg frowned.
“What kind of letters?”
“The kind I hoped I’d never need.”
Liam looked down at the paper and read:
“Dear Future Me, Dad didn’t come to my game today, but Mom cheered loud enough for both of them. Don’t let that make you think you’re worth less.”
I burst into tears.
Liam picked up another page.
“Dear Future Me, if Dad ever tells you he’s proud of you, remember how long Mom waited to hear those words too.”
Greg covered his face.
Liam unfolded another.
“Dear Future Me, don’t become someone who blames other people for the life you have. Be grateful for the people who stay.”
The backyard was filled with quiet sobs.
Greg slowly lowered his hands.
“I didn’t know.”
“No.”
Liam folded the papers carefully.
“You didn’t.”
Then he looked at me.
“Mom spent eighteen years protecting you.”
I shook my head.
“I wasn’t protecting him.”
“You were.”
Liam smiled sadly.
“You kept telling everyone Dad was just stressed.”
He wasn’t wrong.
For years, I had made excuses.
Because admitting the truth meant admitting our family was broken.
Liam turned back to Greg.
“I don’t hate you.”
Greg looked up.
“But I won’t let Mom keep carrying blame that never belonged to her.”
Greg took one hesitant step forward.
“I was wrong.”
Nobody answered.
He took another step.
“I spent years mourning a life that never existed.”
His voice trembled.
