«What have you done?» my father shouted, just because I got pregnant. Then he kicked me out without knowing the truth. I smiled and left. 15 years later, when they came to visit me and their grandson, they all went pale and froze in shock at what they saw…

It was the photographs he carried in his hands, ones he had pulled from the cabinet while they stood there. He handed one to my mother. It was Landon standing beside a tall man in a white coat.

That’s my dad, he said proudly. He’s a cardiovascular surgeon in Boston. He visits during the summers and sends me books every month.

My mother nearly dropped the photo. And then, before they could say anything, Landon pulled another frame from the cabinet and held it out. It was me, standing behind a podium with the Harrington Medical logo surrounded by a board of directors.

Mom’s the head of operations, Landon said with a small smile. She runs everything. That’s when it happened.

My father’s face dropped, visibly, audibly, like the air had been punched out of his lungs. He stumbled back a half step, his hand gripping the back of the couch. You, he whispered, you build all this? I looked at him.

My voice was calm. But beneath it was every sleepless night, every insult, every lonely birthday, every moment they thought I wouldn’t make it. No, I said, I built myself.

The room was so quiet, you could hear the wind brush against the windows. My father hadn’t sat down, he couldn’t. His pride wouldn’t let him, and his legs looked too weak to hold the weight of what he was seeing.

My mother, still clutching the photo of Landon and his father, slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the couch. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Landon stood calmly beside me, folding his hands like the polite, well-raised young man he was.

He didn’t look confused. He didn’t look scared. He looked like he knew, he had always known, that the two people standing in his mother’s living room had chosen to be strangers in his life.

And now they were standing in a house they didn’t build, looking at a boy they didn’t raise and a woman they had tried to erase. My father finally cleared his throat. I, I didn’t know you were in contact with him, with the boy’s father.

I wasn’t, I replied, not for a long time. He wanted to be there, but I told him no. I wanted Landon to grow up knowing stability, security, no broken promises.

When Landon turned 10, I let them meet, slowly, on my terms. My mother spoke then, her voice trembling. He’s, he’s beautiful, Emma.

Thank you, I said quietly. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. We made a mistake…