Chapter 23 For the past few months, I had been receiving letters-handwritten, carefully worded-from Travis, Van, and even Troy. Sometimes it was flowers. Sometimes little gifts. Sometimes it was Troy's name on the card. Sometimes it was just "from your brother." I never opened any of them. The first time Travis called, I stared at the screen until it stopped ringing. A minute later, Var tried. Then again the next day. "Taylor, please," Van had said in one voicemail, voice low, maybe embarrassed. "We just… wan to talk. We know we were wrong. We should've believed you." Then Travis, sounding gruffer, almost angry at himself. "I don't expect you to forgive us, Tay. Bu you didn't deserve what we did. I get it now. I just-can we fix it? Please?" I deleted both messages. They sent more. Once, a delivery of my favorite cinnamon rolls from my childhood bakery Another time, a framed photo of the three of us when we were kids, before the lies and the hurt. But I never replied. I was done with all that. With the past. With the ache of trying to belong in a family that only remembered me when I walked away. They only missed me when I stopped waiting for them. Now… I was finally living. Breathing. Creating. And more than anything-I was happy. Scott and I spent our mornings tangled in bedsheets and laughter, teasing each other about breakfast and burning pancakes. He still kissed my forehead before heading to work, still left notes on the bathroom mirror 'You're magic," he scribbled once. "Don't forget it." The boutique was thriving. I was managing the orders for a second branch downtown, anc customers often came in just to meet me. They called me "the comeback designer," and I smile every time because they had no idea just how far I had crawled back from. My staff-Ella, Margie, James-had become more like friends. Every day was a little celebratior of life. There were fittings and fashion shows. Coffees spilled on fabric and giggles in the dressing oom. Until one morning, everything shifted. woke up queasy, bolting toward the bathroom before I could even say "good morning." Scot