Ivy watched, quietly, as her father began showing off family photos filled with smiling faces that didn’t include her. They became the group he introduced at gatherings. They were the ones pictured on the holiday cards.
Her mother also remarried. Tanya’s new husband, Donnie, kept his voice low and steady, but there was something in his tone that made the house feel smaller whenever he entered a room. When Ivy’s baby sister arrived, the household shifted around the new rhythm.
One night, Ivy heard a conversation that confirmed what her heart already knew. Behind a closed door, voices floated through the walls, neither angry nor loud, but decisive in a way that chilled her.
Donnie mentioned that he hadn’t planned for children. He made it clear that he felt differently about the child who shared his last name. A moment later, her mother’s phone rang.
Ivy recognized her father’s voice, distant through the speaker, explaining that including her in his home no longer fit with his family’s routine.
By morning, her parents had agreed on a solution. They packed Ivy’s belongings into three plastic bags and drove her to her aunt’s small yellow house. They didn’t stay long enough to hear her aunt’s questions. They didn’t offer explanations. Within minutes, they were gone.
Aunt Carol didn’t treat the moment like a burden. She opened the door, greeted Ivy with warmth that reached her eyes, and ushered her inside. She didn’t demand reasons or rehash decisions. Instead, she made grilled cheese sandwiches with a little too much butter and tucked Ivy under a quilt that smelled of laundry soap and old paperback novels.
Later that night, when Ivy tried to stay awake to keep her sadness from spilling over, her aunt sat at the side of the bed and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
“You are not a burden,” she told her. “You are a blessing.”
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