me in five years.
Not hello.
Not how are you.
Not even I missed you.
Just an order.
I stared at him.
“You drove four hours to tell me to pack?”
“I drove four hours because someone needs to take you home.”
“Home from what?”
His eyes moved past me into the apartment.
“This.”
I almost laughed.
He had no idea what “this” actually was.
For five years, Dad had imagined my life without ever seeing it.
In his mind, I was trapped in a tiny apartment caring for a
