The message came early in the morning.
“Dear Ms. Trinidad Dela Torre, this is to confirm your one-way ticket to Finland for June 20. We’re excited to have you on board. Your father has arranged everything and is looking forward to your reunion.”
For a second, I couldn’t even breathe. I stared at the screen, rereading the words, as if they might change. But they didn’t. My father had arranged everything. Finally! He accepted me back.
I wrapped my arms around myself, biting back the emotion that surged too fast. Finland. In five days. It felt like the universe had opened a tiny door, one final chance to reclaim the version of me I’d buried long ago. I didn’t even care that I was sick. I’d been sick for years—just not always in the body.
Five days. I could do five days.
“I can endure this,” I whispered to the silence. “Just five more.”
I told myself I’d be kind. I’d cook their favorite meals. I’d clean, prepare what they needed. I would leave this house in order, like a good little ghost—polite, invisible, forgotten.
That thought almost made me laugh.
I was still standing by the window when the knock came. Sharp, impatient.
I opened the gate to find a delivery guy, his hat too big for his head, holding a medium-sized box.
“Package for Dela Torre?” he asked, tilting his head.
I nodded.
“No sender listed. Just... enjoy your trip?” He shrugged and handed it over.
I stood there holding the box for a second, heart thudding like it already knew something I didn’t. It wasn’t heavy, just firm. Tightly taped. Clean edges.
Inside, I found five glossy travel pouches—first-class plane tickets, hotel confirmations, thick winter coats still smelling like new, and a set of itinerary brochures. They were all clearly labeled: Helsinki. Aurora Borealis. December Sky Tour. For five guests.
My knees nearly gave out. Five tickets. The dream I’d kept tucked away for so long… it was here. Tangible. Cold weather, foreign stars, snow-covered forests—it was all printed there in color.
I clutched one of the coats, brushing my hands across its soft lining. My size.
Had Jackson done this?
He’d lashed out at me before—God knows how many times. But afterward, there were always gifts. Expensive apologies wrapped in gold paper and guilt. Maybe this time, the trip was his way of making peace. He knew how long I’d wanted to see the Northern Lights.
My chest burned with something fragile and dangerous: hope.
Just then, the front door opened.
Jackson. He paused mid-step when he saw me with the box.
“What the hell are you doing?” he barked, his eyes narrowing.
I turned to him slowly, still holding one of the tickets. “I saw the package. I didn’t know you were planning something. But… thank you, Jackson. Really. I’m not mad anymore. You got the Finland trip I always wanted.”
He blinked, then scoffed, walking over to yank the ticket from my hand.
“Who the hell said these are for you?”
My stomach twisted. “But… there are five tickets—”
“They’re for Donna and me. Tania and her family. Business trip.”
I tried to smile, tried to make sense of it. “Without me? But… I could go. Maybe just help with—”
He cut me off with a laugh so sharp it nearly sliced through me.
“Why would you come? What the hell would you do there, Trina? You gonna negotiate contracts with CEOs? You can’t even handle an online banking app.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. Just air and pain.
He sneered. “We need someone to watch the house, anyway. Since you’re not doing anything useful.”
And that was it. That was when the final thread inside me snapped.
As I stood there frozen, the stairs creaked.
“What’s going on?” Tania asked, barely glancing up while looking at her phone.
“She saw the tickets,” Jackson muttered.
“Oh, that? That was my gift to Aunt Donna. I ordered it weeks ago.”
Gift. My ears rang.
What about me? I’d spent my life giving. And all I got was silence, blame, and a job title no one respected.
“And you,” my own daughter added, “can you get this list done? We’re bringing all of this to Finland. Don’t screw it up.”
She walked out as quickly as she came. And I just stood there, swallowing the bitterness, trying not to cry.
Jackson’s phone rang. I moved to leave, but his voice caught my attention.
“Hey, baby,” he said smoothly. “Yeah, she saw it. Don’t worry, everything’s fine here. I’ll keep her busy… I can’t wait to see the aurora borealis with you.”
That was it.
I walked away before he could notice the way I crumpled. My hands shook, my teeth clenched so tightly I felt my jaw ache.
I had never felt so completely replaced in my life.
Not loved. Not even seen.
That night, I didn’t cry.
I packed their clothes. Ironed Donna’s coats. Crossed off everything on their precious list. But I didn’t do it for them.
I did it so they couldn’t say I left them with a mess.
The next morning, I dressed differently. A beige blouse, slacks I hadn’t worn in years, my old brown handbag. A touch of lipstick. Something about the routine gave me back a sliver of control.
I walked to the lawyer’s office, alone.
The waiting room was quiet. The receptionist offered me tea. I declined. When it was my turn, I sat across from a young man in a dark suit.
“I want to file for divorce,” I said. “And erase every connection with the Dela Torre family.”
