“Dad made a big mistake a long time ago,” I told him. “He lied. Lying breaks trust. Adults mess up, too.”
I still cry sometimes.
I still miss the life I thought I had.
I don’t regret loving him.
But I’m building something new now. I have a job. A small apartment. A weird, awkward truce with my parents that we’re slowly turning into something real.
I don’t regret loving him. I regret that he didn’t trust me with the truth.
If anyone cares about the lesson in all this, here’s mine:
