I replied, “Robert, your father taught me that true love isn’t manipulation. He taught me that relationships are built on mutual respect. If Amanda is crying, maybe it’s time for you to reflect on why. If the kids are asking for me, tell them their grandma loves them, but she also loves herself. I’ll be back in two days. When I do, things are going to be different. Either you accept the new Celia or we have nothing more to talk about.”
I sent the message and turned off the phone.
On January 2nd, Paula and I packed our things. The trip back was peaceful. I looked out the window, processing everything I had experienced in those days. I wasn’t a different person. I was the same person I had always been, but finally free of the chains I had allowed to be put on me.
When we arrived at my house, Paula helped me get my suitcase out.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
“I’m going to be perfect.”
We hugged.
“Thanks for everything, Paula. For seeing me, for being there.”
“When you want to repeat the trip, just let me know.”
I watched her drive away in her car. Then I went into my house. It was exactly as I had left it—clean, tidy, empty. But now that emptiness didn’t scare me. It was space. Space to build something new.
I hung the painting I had bought on the living room wall. The woman looking out at the sea was now looking at me, reminding me who I was now.
That night, as I was making tea, the doorbell rang. I looked out the window. It was Amanda and Robert together, with serious faces.
I took a deep breath. It was time for the final conversation.
I opened the door, but I didn’t invite them in.
“We need to talk,” Amanda said.
