Daniel visits once a month, supervised at a center that Olivia is comfortable in. Their relationship is distant. She hugs him when she leaves, but I can tell—something inside her has changed. Trust doesn’t break loudly. It withers. Slowly.
He sends emails, asking for another chance. I don’t respond. The court order stands. He hasn’t cut Margaret out. That was always the line.
Margaret, last I heard, moved states. Still tells people I “alienated” her granddaughter. I don’t correct the story. Let her have her version. I have the truth.
Sometimes I wonder what went wrong in her, what turned her so cold, so entitled to another human being’s autonomy—especially a child’s. But that’s not my burden.
Mine is to raise Olivia in peace. In safety. In choice.
We talk openly now. About control. About boundaries. About kindness without weakness.
