Chapter 83

Chapter 83
Chapter 83: “Hollow Apologies”

POV: Elizabeth

I noticed the flowers first. A bouquet of expensive white lilies, sitting on the counter when I came downstairs. The tag said “From Pearl.”

No note. Just her name. Like that would mean something.

I stared at them for a long time. The smell was strong, almost too much, like it was trying to cover something up. I didn’t touch them.

Instead, I opened the fridge, pulled out some juice, and drank straight from the bottle. The baby kicked once, low in my belly, like it knew I was trying not to be upset.

Jackson walked in a few minutes later, still wearing his workout clothes. He looked from the flowers to me.

“Did you see the tag?” I asked, even though I knew he had.

He nodded. “Want me to throw them out?”

I shook my head. “No. Leave them. Let them sit there and rot like everything else she touched.”

He didn’t argue. Just came over, kissed the top of my head, and grabbed a water bottle.

We didn’t talk about it again.

—

Later, I heard her voice.

Not in my head, not like that, but in a voicemail that popped up while I was folding laundry upstairs. I stared at her name on my phone screen, thumb hovering over the play button.

Then I pressed it.

Her voice was fake-sweet. Like she’d rehearsed.

“Hey, Lizzie... I just wanted to say how happy I am for you. I know we’ve had our differences, but you’re going to be such a great mom. I hope we can put everything behind us soon. I miss you. Really. Call me?”

I didn’t call.

I set the phone down, folded another shirt, and let the silence settle again.

—

The final straw came the next morning.

I was scrolling through my social media account when I saw it, a public post from Pearl’s page.

A photo of us from years ago, cropped so close you could barely tell it was old. The caption said:

“So proud of my little sister. We’ve reconnected lately, and it’s been beautiful. Family above everything. 💕”

My hand tightened around the phone. I didn’t feel sad. I felt insulted.

She was rewriting the story, again, and this time, she wanted the world to think she was some supportive, loving sister.

I walked to the kitchen, still holding my phone. Jackson was making breakfast, eggs and toast, nothing fancy, but he stopped when he saw my face.

“What happened?”

I held the phone up. “Pearl posted this. Said we’ve ‘reconnected.’” I made air quotes. “We haven’t spoken in months.”

He looked at the screen, read it silently, then handed it back.

“You want me to say something?”

“No.” I opened the app, went to my own page, and deleted the post she’d tagged me in. “I don’t want to give her more attention than she deserves.”

Jackson didn’t push. He just stood there, spatula still in his hand, waiting.

“I’m done trying to prove I’m good enough for people who made up their minds about me before I even had a chance,” I said, more to myself than to him.

“You are good enough,” he said, softly.

I looked at him then. He looked so steady, so sure, like his belief in me wasn’t something that could be shaken by someone else’s lies.

“I know,” I said. “I just don’t care if they think so anymore.”

—

I didn’t cry. Not even when I deleted old pictures or went through old messages.

Instead, I turned on some music, something soft, nothing with words, and pulled out my canvas. There was a painting I’d started a week ago but hadn’t finished.

Now, I wanted to.

I dipped my brush in blue, let it swirl across the white space. It was quiet, but not the sad kind. Jackson sat nearby, flipping through a book he wasn’t really reading.

We didn’t talk.

Eventually, I felt him move closer. His hand brushed my back gently.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just... tired of being hurt and pretending I’m not.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kissed my shoulder and sat down again.

That’s the thing with Jackson. He never tells me how to feel. He just lets me be.

—

That night, I got another message from Pearl.

I didn’t open it. I didn’t respond.

I muted her number and tossed my phone on the couch.

Then I joined Jackson in the kitchen, helped him chop vegetables even though I was bad at it and kept getting distracted.

He didn’t mind.

We laughed at the mess we made. He kissed my nose when I got carrot pieces in my hair.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about what Pearl had done.

I thought about the life I was building.

The family I was choosing.

And the peace that came with finally letting go of the ones who never really chose me back.