Page 318 of Faking the Goal

Her hands cup my face the way they used to whenever I'd come home bruised after one of Dad's punishments.

"I did not spend all those years trying to get you away from him just so you'd hand your life back to him now."

A lump rises painfully in my throat.

"But your treatment..."

"My treatment is not more important than you."

"It is," Miho says through her tears.

I nod immediately.

"It is."

"You only have a few sessions left," I add. "You've come this far. We can't stop now."

She looks at both of us for a long moment before her shoulders finally sag.

Then she smiles.

It's tired.

Heartbroken.

But determined.

"If we have to sell this apartment..." Her gaze drifts around the home she'd worked so hard to build for us. "...then we'll sell it."

"Mom..."

"If we have to sell the café..." Her eyes return to mine. "Then we'll sell the café."

I stare at her.

"I don't care if the three of us end up living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment." Her voice grows stronger with every word. "I don't care if I have to start over at fifty years old. I don't care if I have to wash dishes, mop floors, or work three jobs just to keep food on our table."

She reaches for my hand.

"The only thing I care about..." Her fingers tighten around mine. "...is that my children are free."

Tears burn behind my eyes.

"I'm done letting that man decide how we live our lives." She shakes her head, her voice unwavering now. "He has taken enough from this family."

She squeezes my hand again.

"He is not taking your dream too. You hear me?"

There's no anger in her voice anymore.

Only a tenderness so fierce it makes my chest ache.

I let out a slow breath and manage a reluctant smile.

"...Yeah."

I want to believe her.