Chapter 7
Dad didn’t confront Vanessa in the hallway.
He photographed the page and returned it to the envelope. Then he asked Aunt Renee to stand with me while he went upstairs.
I heard his voice through the open door of the bedroom.
“Vanessa, I need to ask you about Aaliyah’s university account.”
A drawer closed. “Not again.”
“We found the password for the false email address in your desk.”
Silence followed.
I looked at Mia. She stood near the stairs holding a box against her chest. Her face told me she hadn’t expected that.
Vanessa came downstairs slowly. “I wrote it down for Mia.”
“Why?” Dad asked.
“She said she wanted to send Aaliyah a message.”
“What kind of message requires an email address that looks like Aaliyah’s?”
Vanessa set her box on the floor. “I didn’t think it through.”
Dad held her gaze. “Last month you told me Aaliyah might stay home instead of going to college.”
“Mia said she was worried about leaving.”
“I told you she was excited.”
“You did.”
“And you still kept the password.”
Vanessa’s eyes flicked toward me. “I never signed in to Aaliyah’s account.”
Mia set down her box too. “Mom didn’t send the withdrawal. I did.”
“I know,” I said. “You told me.”
“I used your laptop. Mom didn’t know I’d do that.”
Vanessa looked at her daughter with a mixture of relief and alarm.
Dad shook his head. “You knew she was trying to interfere.”
“I knew she was jealous,” Vanessa said. “I should have stopped her.”
“Yes,” he said. “You should have.”
For years, Vanessa had spoken for Mia so quickly that I sometimes wondered whether Mia ever got to think for herself. Now she didn’t interrupt.
Mia turned to me.
“I sent the withdrawal because I thought if you missed college, you’d stay here. Maybe then David would stop talking about how hard you’d worked.”
Dad flinched.
“He talked about you too,” I said. “He went to every one of your art shows.”
“I know that now.”
Vanessa looked at her. “Mia, you don’t have to say any more.”
“I do,” Mia said.
Aunt Renee stepped a little closer to me. I was grateful for it.
Mia swallowed. “I cut the dress because I wanted one day to be about me. Even if everyone was angry at me, they’d be looking at me.”
I stared at her. It was such a small, ugly reason for so much pain.
“I’m not asking you to understand,” she said.
“Good.”
Vanessa started crying quietly. I couldn’t tell whether she was grieving what Mia had done or what it would cost them. Maybe both.
Dad asked Mia to write an account of how she had accessed my laptop and sent the withdrawal. She agreed. Aunt Renee suggested they do it after the move, with Vanessa present, so no one could later argue Mia had been pressured.
I didn’t want another promise from Mia. I wanted proof my place at college was secure.
The next week, Ms. Patel called me herself.
The university had completed its review. My withdrawal was void. My scholarship and housing were confirmed. They had added extra security to my account and sent the information directly to the email and phone number I verified in person.
I sat on the kitchen floor after the call, laughing and crying at once.
Dad found me there. “Good news?”
“I’m going.”
He crouched and hugged me.
“You’re going,” he repeated.
Mia provided her written account the following day. She admitted cutting the dress, taking the letter, and accessing my laptop. She also admitted that Vanessa had helped her create the false address, though Vanessa had not known about the final withdrawal until after Mia sent it.
Dad and his lawyer kept copies. Ms. Patel received the section about my account.
Mia’s school learned about the account misuse because the university required an official report. Her summer program placed her on probation. She also had to attend counseling as part of the agreement that let her stay enrolled the next term.
Dad didn’t celebrate any of it. Neither did I.
I wanted consequences. I didn’t need to watch her life fall apart.
A few days later, I found Dad in the kitchen studying a list of household bills.
“Are we okay?” I asked.
He covered the page, then stopped himself and slid it toward me.
“Yes. The separation costs money, but we’re okay. You deserve an honest answer.”
I sat down. “I can work more shifts.”
“Save your money for school.”
“I want to help.”
“You already have a summer job. That’s enough.”
I studied his face. He looked tired. I realized he had been trying to keep his marriage, his house, and my future from collapsing all at once.
“I’m glad you told me,” I said.
“I should have started doing that sooner.”
That evening, Vanessa sent me a message. She apologized for defending Mia over the dress and for helping create the false email address. She said she had told herself Mia needed protecting, even while she watched her cause harm.
I read it twice.
Then I wrote back: I need space. Please respect that.
She answered: I will.
For the first time, she did.
By August, the house had grown quieter. The empty room across the hall no longer made me nervous every time I passed it.
Mrs. Ellis called to say my dress was ready.
When I tried it on, the torn skirt had become a shorter, softly pleated one. She had used the damaged sleeve to make a small tie at the waist.
It looked like something I could move in.
Something I could leave home in.
Then Dad’s phone rang. I saw Vanessa’s name on the screen, and the old fear returned.
He answered beside me.
May you like
A moment later, his expression changed.
Mia had left her mother’s house and no one knew where she was.
