PART 3
She gestured toward the door.
“Good.”
I nodded.
“I just wanted you to know that I already told Dad.”
The smile disappeared from her face.
Brandon’s eyebrows pulled together.
“Told Dad what?”
I looked directly at Cynthia.
“Everything.”
Silence.
The television continued playing in the background.
Mason began fussing again.
Nobody moved.
Cynthia’s face remained frozen for about three seconds.
Then she shook her head.
“You called your father?”
“No.”
Her expression changed again.
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I emailed him.”
Brandon scoffed.
“Maya, Dad is driving. He probably won’t even see it until tomorrow.”
“He already saw it.”
Cynthia stared at me.
“How?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
“I sent it to his personal email, his work email, and the emergency contact address listed with his company.”
Brandon stood.
“You did what?”
“I also sent copies to myself.”
Cynthia’s voice became sharper.
“You’ve been planning this.”
“No,” I said. “I’ve been preparing for the possibility that nobody would believe me.”
That sentence landed harder than I expected.
Brandon looked at Cynthia.
She looked back at him.
For once, neither of them seemed to know what to say.
I opened my phone.
“I didn’t send him one angry message.”
I scrolled.
“I sent him a timeline.”
Cynthia stepped forward.
“What timeline?”
“The one I’ve been keeping for three weeks.”
Her face lost some color.
Brandon walked closer.
“What did you put in it?”
I looked at him.
“Everything.”
He stared at me.
I could see the uncertainty spreading across his face.
“Maya…”
“You don’t need to defend her.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You usually do.”
He looked away.
That hurt more than I expected.
Because it was true.
For years, Brandon had never been openly cruel to me.
That would almost have been easier.
He simply stayed silent whenever silence benefited him.
When Cynthia complained that I was selfish, he stayed quiet.
When she asked me to babysit while he went out with friends, he stayed quiet.
When she used my mother’s belongings without asking, he stayed quiet.
When she told Dad I was difficult, he stayed quiet.
And now, when she knocked my laptop onto the floor the night before the most important exam of my semester, he had still stayed quiet.
Silence had become his contribution.
I put my phone away.
“I’m leaving.”
Cynthia recovered enough to sneer.
“Fine.”
I opened the door.
Cold evening air rushed inside.
I stepped onto the porch.
“Maya.”
I stopped.
It was Brandon.
I turned.
He was standing behind the couch.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Where are you going?”
I almost laughed.
“Somewhere I’m wanted.”
His face tightened.
“You can’t just disappear.”
“I’m not disappearing.”
“Then where?”
I looked at him.
“You never asked where I was going before.”
He swallowed.
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It isn’t.”
Then I walked away.
I didn’t slam the door.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t give Cynthia the dramatic exit she seemed to expect.
I simply walked down the driveway with the duffel bag over my shoulder.
Halfway to the street, my phone vibrated.
I stopped.
One new message.
From Dad.
CALL ME NOW.
My heart started pounding.
I stared at those three words.
Then another message arrived.
I’m pulling over.
I called.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Maya.”
His voice sounded different.
Not tired.
Not distracted.
Angry.
But I couldn’t tell at whom.
“Hi, Dad.”
“What did you send me?”
I looked back at the house.
The living-room curtains were closed.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
I swallowed.
“I didn’t want to send it.”
“I know.”
His voice softened.
“That’s why I know I need to take it seriously.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I had imagined this conversation.
In every version, I had cried.
I had shouted.
I had finally told him everything I had been afraid to say.
Instead, I stood on a sidewalk holding a duffel bag and said the simplest thing.
“I just wanted you to believe me.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then Dad asked,
“Where are you?”
“I’m outside the house.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“I need to study.”
“I’ll help you find somewhere to stay tonight.”
“I already have somewhere.”
“What?”
