Chapter 11 #3
Then I pull back, hesitating just long enough to look unsure. "Uncle Thomas... I hate to ask, but... I’m in a bit of a situation."
He arches an eyebrow, waiting.
“I just need a little help,” I continue, forcing the words out with the right mix of shame and hesitation. “Things have been... complicated, a lot happening all at once, and I just— I kind of feel lost.”
He studies me for a long moment before sighing again. “All right,” he says finally. “But don’t tell your Aunt Cynthia. She’ll think I’m rewarding bad behavior.”
Relief washes over me, and I let it show. A small, grateful smile.
“And don’t worry,” he adds, turning back toward the window. “I’ll keep paying for your apartment, too.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, stepping forward to press a light kiss to his cheek.
Before I can turn to leave, his voice stops me.
“Ama—Maya.” He corrects himself quickly when he sees my hands curl into tight fists. “Use these days here to think carefully about your next steps. There’s only so much I can help you with... and only so much I can protect you from.”
The lump in my throat rises before I can stop it. I turn back to him, my vision blurring as I step closer. This time, the tears are real. They spill down my cheeks before I even think to wipe them away.
I throw my arms around him, clinging tightly. “I’d give anything for you to be my father and not just my uncle,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the weight of it.
Uncle Thomas exhales and hugs me back, pulling me close against his chest. “You’ll always be like a daughter to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.
A sob escapes me, small and trembling. He holds me close, his hand settling between my shoulders as he murmurs words meant to calm me, most of them lost in the rush of my own breathing.
For a moment, I let myself feel it. The safety. The warmth. The illusion of being loved without conditions.
It’s almost enough to make me want to stop here. To start over. For real this time.
Almost.
When I finally pull away, his eyes are kind again, but tired. I hear his words now. I understand what he means. But I won’t do what he asked. Not in the way he hopes.
I’ll take these days, just like he said. I’ll think. And I’ll make sure every move counts.
Alicia
Dear Diary,
I think my daddy is a liar.
The other day, some mean girls at school showed me a site that said he had a new girlfriend. Someone younger, prettier, and not my mom.
I told them they were wrong. I told them my daddy would never do that. Because no one in the whole world is more beautiful than my mom.
Ashley laughed. She said, “Everyone knows it’s true.” So I grabbed her phone, threw it on the floor, and ran away before she could pick it up.
I’m not proud of it. Mom always says we should treat people with kindness and never let anger take over. But, Dear Diary, I don’t regret it. Not even a little. Because she was being mean. And she was talking about my family.
She and her friends are always picking on me. The clothes I wear. The fact that I still call my mom Mommy. That I was the only one without a phone until the beginning of this school year. And honestly, I didn’t even care about any of that.
But I do care when they talk about my family. And I won’t let anyone talk about my mom.
When Mommy came home that day, she looked so tired, her face even sadder than it had been the other days.
She found me and Ethan sitting on the couch, both of us crying.
Ethan didn’t say a single word. Mommy sat down next to us and said she needed to tell me something important.
She said Daddy got involved with someone else.
And that’s why they can’t be married anymore.
But I don’t understand, Dear Diary. Daddy always said that real love doesn’t break. That when you find the right person, you hold on to them and never let go.
He lied. And I hate that I can't stop loving him so much.
I don’t want to feel hate. It’s such an ugly feeling.
Sometimes I sit on my bed and try to remember the sound of his laugh when everything used to be okay, when we were still a family. He used to come home, and I’d run to him, hugging him so tight he’d lift my feet off the ground.
He’d kiss Mommy on the forehead and say, “My girls.” And we’d all laugh together. It used to feel like forever.
Now the house is quiet in a way that hurts.
I keep thinking maybe it’s all a big mistake. Maybe he’ll come home tomorrow and tell us the truth. That the site was wrong. That the girlfriend doesn’t exist. That it was all just a lie someone made up. Maybe he’ll hold Mom’s hand again and tell her she’s forever his queen.
Daddy always told me that Mom was his queen and his happy ending. That they were supposed to stay together forever. No other girlfriends or boyfriends, just the two of them. I don’t know if I ever wrote this in the diaries I had before you, but Daddy once told me the story of how he met Mommy.
He said they were meant to be… that the universe had brought them together.
I’ll never forget that story, Dear Diary. And now, I’m going to tell you a little about it.
“She was working at a bookstore, standing on a step ladder, and I caught her before she fell. One look into your mother’s mesmerizing eyes, and I knew—she would be mine, and I would be hers.
When she told me her name was Cecily, it felt like fate confirming itself. Tell me, what could say destiny louder than our names both starting with the same letter, or the world stopping the moment we touched?
One day, you’ll find a love like that too. A love as big, as beautiful, and as endless as ours.”
Whenever I couldn’t sleep, Daddy would tell me that story, and I’d fall asleep smiling. But I don’t think I ever want a love like that anymore, Dear Diary.
They think I don’t notice, but I do. I see how Ethan smiles less now, how he gets tense every time Daddy’s around. I see how Mommy is different, sadder, how she doesn’t eat much anymore. She’s always baking our favorite cookies, but it’s not the same.
Not like before, when she used to cook while smiling, listening to her books or her favorite songs. Now she cooks in silence.
I don’t want a love that leaves me sad and silent. Or one that has a girlfriend, too.
I don’t even know what to do anymore, Dear Diary. Everything feels so confusing and different. I don’t even know if I want to see Daddy again... or call him Daddy.
What do I call him if not that? Colin? That’s his name, but it feels too weird to say.
So do I just... not call him anything at all?
I wish you could talk to me, Dear Diary. I wish you could explain why he did this. Why adults say one thing and do another? Why he said he loves Mommy, but at the same time has a girlfriend?
I asked him if he had one, the last time I saw him. He said no.
You see, Dear Diary? He lied.
Mom told me about it before I even asked him. I just wanted to hear the truth from him.
Mommy said that Daddy will always love me and Ethan. That will never change. But I don’t think I believe that anymore.
I’m sorry, Dear Diary, but I have to stop writing. My handwriting’s getting messy because my hands won’t stop shaking between sobs, and the pages are too wet with tears to keep going.
Goodbye for now, Dear Diary.?
I close the diary. Get out of bed, walk to the dresser, and pull open the last drawer. I hide it all the way in the back, where no one will find it.
I think I’m a liar too, just like Daddy. I told my diary goodbye for now, but that was a lie. I don’t think I’ll write in it again. I don’t have anything happy or bright left to tell it anymore.
I switch off the nightstand lamp and bury myself under the covers.
I can’t stop crying. And I don’t want to fall asleep—because I’m scared I'll dream about Daddy having a new family... and forgetting all about us.