Chapter 5 - A New Tradition
One year later, Thanksgiving arrived again with the crisp, clean promise of winter frost and crisp autumn air.
Our house—our house, purchased with my labor, my strength, and my absolute refusal to compromise—glowed with warm light from every window. The kitchen was filled with the rich, mouth-watering scent of roasted turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, and freshly baked apple pie.
There was no tension. There were no toxic expectations, no walking on eggshells, and no ancient tyrants dictating where anyone was allowed to sit.
Mark was completely out of our lives, having slinked off to corporate obscurity in another state after his father finally cut him out of the will entirely, proving that the man who had sold his son for an inheritance ended up with nothing at all. He had called once, months ago, but I hadn't answered. Some bridges aren't meant to be rebuilt; they are meant to be burned down so you can plant a garden in the ashes.
Around our dining table—placed right in the dead center of the room, exactly where it belonged—extra plates were set for two very special guests: Katherine Vance, my brilliant attorney who had become a dear friend, and my sister, who had driven down from Chicago to spend the holidays with us.
Ethan, now eleven years old and standing proudly as the lead programmer of his school’s robotics club, was laughing loudly as he carved the first slice of turkey, telling everyone a hilarious story about how his robot had accidentally knocked over a stack of science textbooks during the district finals.
I sat back in my chair, looking around the bright, lively, love-filled room.
My phone buzzed on the table. A text notification lit up the screen from an unknown number. I didn't even open it. I simply swiped it away, turned the phone face down, and picked up my crystal goblet filled with sparkling cider.
“Alright, everyone,” I said, raising my glass as all eyes turned toward me with warm, loving smiles. “To new traditions, to unshakeable strength, and to never, ever sitting in the kitchen when you belong at the head of the table.”
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“To family!” Ethan cheered, clinking his glass against mine with a ring that echoed purely and brightly through the house.
I looked at my son, knowing that whatever storms came our way in the future, we would face them together—standing tall, standing proud, and never backing down for anyone.
