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IT’S BEEN ALMOST FOUR WEEKS SINCE that last meeting with my family. Four weeks since I sat across from them in that beige-coloured room with Dr. Adesina beside me, my voice trembling and my hands clenched, trying to explain what years of neglect had done to me.
Four weeks since I saw my mum’s stone-faced silence and my dad’s cold disappointment. And today… we’re meeting again. Except this time, I was the one who asked for it. I told Dr. Adesina I wanted to see them. I think I’m ready now.
If I’m being honest, Aaron’s the reason I got to this point. His letters. His words. His presence even when he wasn’t physically here. Every day that passed, I felt a little less alone and a little more… whole.
I’m sitting in the garden. In front of the pond. My favourite spot. The sun hangs low, casting golden glimmers on the water’s surface, and there’s a light breeze brushing over my skin. I can hear birds chirping, the faint sound of the fountain bubbling, the rustle of trees. It’s peaceful here, almost makes me forget what I’m waiting for.
Dr. Adesina thought it would be best if the meeting took place here. I agreed. Nature feels kinder than walls. And this time, she won’t be with me. That was my request. Just me and them. She said it was okay but she’ll be close by, just in case.
My fingers tap restlessly against my thighs in a steady rhythm. I don’t look back at the building. I can’t. I’m too nervous.
“Carmen.” I hear Felix’s voice first. It’s light. Warm. Almost… relieved.
I stand up slowly and turn around. They’re walking towards me—mum, dad, and Felix—and for a second, it’s like my breath gets caught in my chest.
I spoke to Felix on the phone recently. Just once. He’d asked how I was, how I was feeling, if I was eating. He even asked if he could visit. I think that was the first time I let myself believe he actually wanted to talk.
And now, looking at him, I can tell. He’s sorry. He’s really sorry. He’s made it clear.
Since being here, I’ve slowly started to blame him less. He was a kid. Just like me. It wasn’t his fault they always chose him. It was theirs. Our parents. They let the gap grow between us.
Yeah, he liked the attention when he was younger. Who wouldn’t? But now, I see it. I see the weight he carries trying to live up to the perfect image they built for him. And I realise… he doesn’t want it anymore.
“Carmen,” my dad says, gently. “Lo siento, mija.” His voice is soft. Unsteady. His eyes hold something I haven’t seen in a long time. It’s guilt. Regret. Emotion. He always switches to Spanish when he feels too much.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, offering a small smile as I sit back down. It’s not. But what else do I say?
“No, no lo es.” He shakes his head, firm and steady. He’s not brushing it off. He’s disagreeing. Does he… does he finally understand?
“After what happened last time…” my mum begins, her voice quiet. Careful. “Your dad and I… we’ve realised a lot of things.”
“One of those being that you were right,” my dad finishes.
I was? I was. And they finally see that.
I blink at them. At the way they’re both looking at me—not with pity or frustration—but with something real. Something honest.
“Over time,” he says, “we started to treat you differently. Focused on Felix. Lost focus on you. And for that, I’m sorry. But for not understanding? For making it worse?” He pauses, his voice breaking a little. “I’m even more sorry, sweetheart.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. This doesn’t undo everything. It doesn’t erase the years. The yelling. The silence. The nights I cried myself to sleep thinking I wasn’t enough.
But it’s something. It’s a step. I sound like Dr. Adensina right now, she’d be proud. But it’s true. It really is a first step.
“Thank you,” I breathe. “For understanding.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” my mum says, a tear slipping down her cheek. “We should’ve understood years ago.”
She’s crying? I haven’t seen her cry in years.
I glance at Felix, almost like I’m asking is this really happening? He gives me a soft nod, lips lifting slightly but eyes wide, mirroring my disbelief.
I wrap my arms around my mum, pulling her into a hug. “I can’t believe I never saw it,” she whispers against my shoulder, “what I was doing to you.”
Me neither. I swallow the lump in my throat as I pull back. My dad steps forward. Then, without a word, he hugs me too.
I freeze for a second, stunned. I can’t even remember the last time we hugged. His arms are warm. Strong. Familiar in a way that aches. As much as I hate to admit it—it feels good. It feels like something I’ve wanted for so long.
“Eres mi hija. Mi princesa,” he whispers shakily. His princess. That’s what he used to call me.
And just like that, the tears fall. “I miss when you used to call me that,” I admit, my voice cracking.
He pulls back, brushing away my tears. “I’ll treat you as that from now on,” he promises. “What I should’ve done ages ago.”
I try to say something, but nothing comes out. Just a choked breath.
“I know you won’t be able to forgive me straight away,” he adds, “but I’ll work for it.”
I nod, just barely.
“I love you, mija,” my mum says, squeezing my hand.
Dr. Adensina was right. That last meeting, as awful as it was, wasn’t for nothing. It forced them to see what they’d been ignoring for years. For once, I feel seen by them.
I turn to Felix, wiping my cheeks. “Can you give us a second?” My parents nod. My mum kisses my cheek, and they both walk a little further away, leaving us alone.
“They finally understand,” Felix says.
“Do you?” I ask, voice low.
He pauses. His jaw tightens—not in anger, but pain. “I do,” he says, stepping closer. “And I’ve been the shittiest fucking brother.”
A laugh slips out of me—small, breathy. “Accountability,” I murmur, nodding.
“And you’re the best sister,” he says, eyes serious, “one I didn’t deserve.”
“I’m liking this.” I cross my arms, giving him a nod. “Keep going.”
“You’re also better than me at Mario Kart and FIFA.”
I let out a fake gasp. “I should’ve gotten that on camera.”
“Little shit,” he teases, ruffling my hair.
I push him away from me, laughing. A real laugh.
Then his smile fades a little. “But seriously? I’m sorry. For the stuff I said. For the stuff I didn’t say.”
“Felix, it’s—”
“Stop,” he says softly. “Don’t try to make me feel better because I know that everything I’ve said, that I’ve done, and didn’t do was wrong, Carmen. I know that.”
“You tried.” My shoulders drop. “You tried to fix things and I pushed you away.”
“And that was still my fault.” His voice raises slightly. But not in anger. In regret. “Because I was too late. Because there have been countless times where you tried to talk to me and I pushed you away.”
I look up at him, tears in my eyes again. And I notice, he has them too. “Can we just… go back to how we used to be?” I whisper.
“We can.” He nods. “But I’m still gonna spend forever making it up to you.”
“Deal.”
He scratches the back of his head, a small smile tugging on his lips. “So like… are we supposed to hug now?”
I raise an eyebrow. “As if I want to hug you.”
I let out a shriek as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into one anyway. “Too late, little sis.”
“You’re only one minute older,” I huff out a laugh, soft and light. I don’t pull away. It’s peaceful. And for the first time in a long time, my chest doesn’t feel so heavy.
It feels like the pieces of my life are slowly starting to come back together. It feels like things are changing. They’re getting better. It feels too surreal.
Eventually, he lets go, and we both sit back down on the bench. Side by side. Watching the pond ripple gently in front of us, the silence calm and unspoken. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just… still.
We stay there for a while. Talking about stupid things. Laughing at things we shouldn’t laugh about. Avoiding the harder stuff because—for today—that’s enough.
And then, it’s time to say goodbye.
One by one, they come to hug me again. My mum kisses my cheek and tells me she’ll see me soon. My dad squeezes my shoulder and murmurs, “Te quiero, mija.” And Felix just looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time in years.
“I’ll be back next week,” he promises. “You’re not getting rid of me.”
I smile. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He snorts and flicks my forehead gently. “Still annoying, I see.”
I watch them leave. Watch their backs get smaller as they walk down the path, back toward the building. I don’t move until they’re gone.
And then I sit back down on the bench. Alone again. My knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. The breeze brushes against my skin, soft and cool. A leaf falls into the pond, and I follow it with my eyes as it floats.
Dr. Adesina doesn’t come over. She gives me space. But I know she’s there. Somewhere, just out of sight. Watching. Making sure I’m okay.
And I am.
Not perfect. Not fixed. But okay.
I lean back, tilting my head up to the sky.
Clouds drift lazily above me. A soft hush in the air. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath.
Maybe this is what healing looks like. Not a straight line. Not a magic fix. But small moments. Like this one.
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