If you don't want this kind of life, then let it go.

Summary

Six years after I cut off my parents, my adopted sister secretly reached out to my husband.

She told him my parents missed me terribly and wanted nothing more than for our family to be whole again before it was too late.

I traced the thin scar on my forehead. I got it when I was eight, the same day my sister slammed the piano lid on my fingers. My dad gave me the scar when I tried to hit her back.

My husband, unable to bear the sight of my sister’s sad, pleading face, tried to reason with me. "Honey, that was so long ago. Just let it go."