From Ruin to Redemption

tional exhaustion. I went to check on my father and found him sitting up in bed, l

ting on the edge of his b

cognized me. "Evelyn," he murmured, his voice raspy. He reached out a

Dad. Ju

nurse, a kind woman named Maria, arrived for her morning visit. As she was taking my father'

Julian?" I said, my

back in his voice. "You didn't answer. After la

d. I felt nothing for him anymore, no anger, just a

f line. I was just... frustrated. I'm worr

I said, a

I don't mean to overstep, but... Dr. Vance called me this morning. He was asking a lot of questions about your father's

ran cold.

aid you were too overwhelmed to manage the details. I didn't tell him anything specific, o

g to undermine my role as my father's guardian, painting me as an unstable, incapable daughter to the ver

ont door, this time with bags of groceries. He walked in

," he announced cheerfully, heading toward th

here?" I demanded,

eem incapable of accepting. I just spoke with Maria, and

I said, my voice low and dangerous. "You have no

ht to be here! I've been a part of his life for fifteen years! Longer than y

isting my independence, my career, into an act of aba

etic, Julian

ng echoing in the tense silence. "And you're a fool, Evelyn. A sentimental fool who is letting

ollection of framed family photos sat. One was a recent picture of me and my father,

ulian snatched the phot

g?" I cried out, r

e held the photo up. "You're pretending everything is fine, but

," I ordered, my hand

attered, spraying tiny shards across the floor. The picture, torn from its frame, flutte

tist. He was a petulant child having a tantrum, a cruel bully who destroyed things he couldn't possess. In that moment, any lingering trace