I didn’t know what to feel — anger for her absence, confusion over her sudden return, or relief that she was alive and trying to change. We sat at a corner table, and she showed me photos of her journey through recovery.

She said she had followed my life from afar through family friends but had respected my dad’s boundaries. As she spoke, I realized how complicated her pain must have been. Yet a part of me felt betrayed that she hadn’t reached out sooner. When I got home, I told Dad everything. His face turned pale, and he sat in silence for what felt like forever before finally saying, “I kept you safe, but now you’re old enough to decide what role she plays in your life.”