My Parents Deleted My Only Graduation Photo for My Bestie Chapter 10

My Parents Deleted My Only Graduation Photo for My Bestie Chapter 10

The morning of the virtual meeting, I was up before dawn.

Outside my window, the Westridge sky was clean and pale, a wide wash of blue.

I clipped on tny badge and went through the review documents one last time.

At nine sharp, I joined the call.

The video tiles flickered on, one by one.

Zenith’s side of the call was packed. Mr. Sterling sat front and center, his jaw tight.

Chloe was wearing the suit my mom had picked out for her. Her eyes were swollen from crying.

The rest of the project team sat around her.

Behind them sat my dad, my mom, Julian, and Logan, hovering in the background like some bizarre

audience.

Sterling must have let them join from Zenith’s conference room.

I looked at the screen once, then looked away.

“Good morning, everyone.”

“I’m Audrey, the initial review lead for the new materials joint project.”

Zenith’s side of the call went dead silent. I could see my dad’s face go rigid.

He used to say I’d never amount to anything.

Now the daughter he’d written off was the exact person holding the fate of his project in her hands.

I shared my screen.

Zenith’s submission came up, page by page.

“In Document A-19, the data set shows glaring inconsistencies.”

“Page seven of the experimental records doesn’t match the conclusions in the summary.”

I read the final determination.

“After review by the initial review team, Zenith Corporation’s submission has been found to

contain fabricated data, missing required attachments, and other material deficiencies.”

“Proposal Rejected.”

Chloe broke down sobbing right on camera.

My dad was pale with fury, but he couldn’t say a single word.

Every document was right there on the screen. It wasn’t my opinion that sank them. It was their own sloppy work.

Three days later, I found a jewelry repair shop and brought in the locket.

The jeweler turned it over in his hands.

“I can fix it, but the seam will always be visible.”

I nodded.

“That’s okay.”

Some cracks don’t need to be hidden.

The institute gave me my own permanent workspace.

A new computer, a filing cabinet, a small desk lamp. All mine.

I bought a new suitcase with my first paycheck.

After work, my colleagues took me out to dinner.

The soup arrived steaming.

I took a sip and realized, for the first time, that I actually preferred things light and simple.

No one at home had ever asked me what I liked.

Now I got to decide for myself.

I could take my time. Figure out who I actually was.

I wasn’t the extra in the background of someone else’s photo anymore.

I had my own path. My own home.

Late that night, a text came in from a number I didn’t recognize.

[Audrey, I know I was wrong. Please come home. Please.]

I read it once, deleted it, and turned off my screen.

Outside the window, the Westridge sky stretched wide and clear.

It turned out that leaving didn’t have to mean stepping into the dark.