His face twisted with frustration.
“You’re clinging to a past that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“This home exists.”
“Mom doesn’t!”
The words echoed along the road.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Michael’s breathing was rapid. My eyes filled with tears, but I refused to look away.
“I know your mother is gone,” I said quietly. “I wake up every morning knowing it. I go to sleep every night knowing it. I feel her absence in every room of that house.”
He lowered his eyes.
“But the memories we made here matter to me,” I continued. “You don’t have to understand my grief. You only have to respect that this is my home and my decision.”
The senior deputy stepped between us.
“That’s enough.”
He turned to Michael.
“Michael Jones, based on the statements we’ve received, the obstruction of the roadway, and the contract you brought here, you are being detained while we investigate allegations of unlawful restraint and coercion.”
