Two weeks later, Dad called a family meeting.
I came late because of work. When I arrived, the air was thick with tension. Linda was there again—suitcase in hand, her eyes puffy from crying. Dad stood in the corner, distant, stern.
“I’ve made my decision,” he said coldly. “Linda and I have no ties. This is over. Don’t come back.”
My mouth dropped open. “Dad, what—”
“Don’t interfere,” he barked.
I looked at Linda. She gave me one last look—a mixture of sorrow, warmth, and finality—and walked out the door.
She didn’t even take all her things.
I wanted to run after her. I wanted to scream at Dad. But something about the way he sat down afterward, shoulders slumped like a man carrying the weight of a mountain, made me hesitate.
