Chapter 82: Breaking the Last Walls

I woke up slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of Mama's breathing as she held me close. Her arms were warm, her embrace unwavering. For a long moment, I stayed still, listening to the quiet morning sounds. The soft chatter of my sisters just outside the door, the gentle clinking of dishes, and the faint rustling of pages being turned.

I turned my head slightly, blinking sleepily. My father was sitting a little further away, his hands resting on his lap, his gaze filled with something I couldn't quite name. He didn't say anything. He didn't move closer. He just… waited.

A small part of me had expected the warmth from last night to be gone. That maybe I had imagined it. But here they were. Still here. Still loving me.

Mama stirred slightly, her lips pressing against my forehead. "Good morning, my love," she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

I hesitated, then snuggled a little closer. "…Morning, Mama."

Her arms tightened around me, and I felt the way her heartbeat quickened, as if my small action meant the world to her.

I wasn't ready to say it yet. The words were stuck inside me, tangled with years of pain and fear. But I could feel them coming closer, pressing against my heart.

Maybe… just maybe, I could say them soon.

—

The day passed quietly, everyone moving gently around me, as if waiting for me to decide how close I wanted to be. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just warmth, waiting for me to reach out.

Sophia suggested we visit a private park—one where we wouldn't be bothered by anyone else. A quiet place, with soft grass, wide-open spaces, and a beautiful pond where the water sparkled in the sunlight.

I hesitated at first, but when Mama squeezed my hand and smiled, I found myself nodding.

"Okay."

The moment we arrived, my sisters immediately ran ahead, laughing and setting up a soft picnic blanket beneath the shade of a tree. Mama walked with me, her hand wrapped around mine, making sure I never felt too far away from her warmth.

My father trailed behind us, not too close, but close enough that I could feel his presence. It was different from before. He wasn't pushing. He wasn't begging me to accept him. He was just… there.

It was strange.

And maybe, just maybe… it wasn't so bad.

—

As the afternoon stretched on, I started to feel lighter. My sisters were playing near the pond, Olivia was showing me how to make tiny flower crowns, and Mama sat beside me, her hand stroking my hair.

Then, it happened.

I wasn't paying attention, too focused on weaving tiny flowers together, when my foot slipped slightly on the uneven ground. It wasn't a big fall, but before I could react—before I could even brace myself—strong arms caught me.

Firm. Steady. Safe.

My heart pounded as I looked up.

My father's face was tight with concern, his hands still holding me, as if afraid I would shatter.

"…Are you okay?" he asked softly.

I stared at him.

For so long, I had dreamed about moments like this. Someone catching me. Someone making sure I didn't fall. And yet, every time, my mind had painted a different face.

But right now… it was him.

I could hear Mama's breath hitch. My sisters had gone quiet. The whole world felt like it had stilled, waiting for what I would do next.

I swallowed.

My throat felt tight, my chest felt warm, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

"Thank you, Papa."

The moment they left my lips, I felt the way my father's entire body froze.

He wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving. He just stared at me, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said.

Then, in a shaky whisper, he choked out, "W-What did you say?"

I didn't take it back.

I didn't run away.

Instead, I met his gaze, my small fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on just a little tighter.

"I said… thank you, Papa."

His breath left him in a shuddering exhale. His hands trembled slightly as he held me, his grip firm but gentle. I could see the way his eyes shone, the way his lips quivered as he fought back tears.

And then, without thinking, he pulled me close—so carefully, as if I was the most fragile thing in the world.

He buried his face in my hair, his shoulders shaking as he whispered, "Noah… my son… my precious son…"

I felt it then. The last wall inside me cracking, breaking.

The arms around me weren't a stranger's anymore. The warmth surrounding me wasn't something foreign.

This… this was family.

I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the embrace.

And for the first time…

I truly, truly believed it.