Emma, now a grown woman, crossed her arms. “We’ve decided that since Dad’s gone, it’s time you leave for good. This house is ours now.”

Their words didn’t sting as they might have years ago. Instead, I felt a strange calm. “Is that so?” I replied, my voice steady.

“Yes,” Mom snapped. “We don’t need you hovering around. It’s time for you to move on.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “I understand.”

They threw my things out with little ceremony, and as I stood on the lawn surrounded by memories, I felt a twinge of sadness. But not for the loss of their acceptance—rather for the loss of what could have been.