I gripped the steering wheel, my hands clammy as the old truck rumbled through the quiet, tree-lined streets of the wealthy neighborhood. My father who insisted on coming looked at the road with a calm focus, though his jaw was set in a way that told her he was just as tense as I was.
When they pulled up to the large brick house, my stomach churned with anxiety. The pristine lawn, neatly trimmed hedges, and elegant stone pathway leading to the door were worlds apart from our modest home. I glanced at my father, seeking reassurance, and he gave me a firm nod.
“You’re doing the right thing, sweetheart,” he said, as I parked the truck.
I took a deep breath and nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I believed him. After helping him get out of the truck Together, we climbed the steps to the front
