Chapter 17 - Clearing the Ghosts
That afternoon, Claire and I began the process of purging the past from the rooms of our home.
Together, we packed up my mother’s expensive trinkets, her curated crystal glassware, and the cold, formal decor that had made the house feel more like a museum than a sanctuary. Every box we carried out to the curb felt like shedding a layer of heavy armor I didn't realize I was still wearing.
In the study, I finally removed the oversized, intimidating oil portrait of my father that had glowered down from the wall for twenty years. Behind it, the bare plaster was pale and unblemished.
Claire walked into the study, holding a steaming mug of coffee. She looked at the empty wall where the portrait had hung, then smiled softly at me.
"It feels different in here," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic mug. "Lighter."
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"Because we're breathing our own air now," I said, setting the heavy frame against the baseboard and pulling her into a gentle embrace. "No ghosts allowed."
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