In the months that followed, Ivy found comfort in the gentle structure of her aunt’s home. Carol gave her a house key so she could come in after school. She let her paint her bedroom walls sky blue, and when Ivy changed her mind, she simply brought home more paint and helped her start again.
Her aunt supported every small step toward confidence. She encouraged school projects and hovered over essays with patient enthusiasm. If Ivy needed a certain shade of paint, Carol found a way to stretch her budget and take her across town to find it. She never complained about the cost of supplies or the time spent driving from store to store. Instead, she smiled and said that creativity was worth tending to.
Her parents, meanwhile, had grown quieter over the years. They didn’t come to birthdays or school events. They didn’t call. Occasionally, a card arrived with her name spelled incorrectly and a single uneven signature from her mother. Ivy eventually learned not to expect more.
Everything changed the year she entered an international art competition. Her submission, a deeply personal piece titled “Inheritance,” portrayed a young girl building her future from scraps while two blurred figures observed from a distance. The piece resonated with viewers around the world. When it won, newspapers and local reporters shared her story.
She was described as an artist who had found her voice despite emotional distance in her early years. Along with recognition came a substantial cash award.
Three days later, her parents appeared at the café where she worked.
When Ivy stepped outside, she was greeted by two familiar faces that time had not softened. Her mother looked tearful, and her father held a bouquet of flowers that seemed slightly wilted. They spoke quickly, calling her beautiful and telling her how proud they were. She listened quietly, unsure of what they hoped to gain. She agreed to meet them for dinner, more out of curiosity than sentiment.
The diner they chose hadn’t changed much since her childhood. As they sat together, Ivy watched them fidget and rehearse half-finished thoughts. Then the conversation shifted. They suggested that her aunt had influenced her memories.
They said they had always wanted to return, that circumstances had simply gotten away from them. And then, as she had quietly anticipated, the requests began. Her mother needed help with a failing car. Her father mentioned an upcoming move and financial strain. They spoke of new children, growing families, and the need for stability.
Continue reading…
