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He flinched, but barely.
“You don’t understand,” he said softly.
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“Then explain it to me!”
But he didn’t.
He only shook his head, like nothing he said would matter anymore.
That silence felt like guilt.
“I never want to see you again,” I told him.
And he let me walk away.
The months that followed were brutal.
Without the house, I moved Mom into a small apartment. It was clean, but it never felt like home.
She tried not to complain, but sometimes she’d stare at the bare walls and quietly ask, “Do you remember the garden?”
I remembered.
And every time she asked, my anger toward Caleb grew sharper.
He had taken that from her.
From us.
Then he disappeared completely.
No calls.
No visits.
No help.
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