How did you get your mom to apologize for being too strict?

The War Zone and Secret Acts of Rebellion

How did you get your mom to apologize for being too strict? After the divorce, my mom turned our house into a war zone. No contact with dad, no exceptions, no matter what. She blocked his number on my phone and shredded any mail with his handwriting before I could see it.

She told the school office to call the cops if he showed up. Every day at lunch, I’d sit with kids scheduling their dad weekends while I pretended mine was just really busy with work. They’d complain about having two houses, two sets of rules, double the chores. I wanted to throw my sandwich at them. Like, at least they had two houses.

Then came my 14th birthday. I got a letter in the mail and recognized dad’s messy handwriting immediately.

Happy 14th birthday, Isabella. I hope you still like chocolate cake.

I didn’t have time to read the rest because mom snatched it from my hands and tore it into pieces right in front of me.

Nothing from him enters this house.

Her face was twisted with so much hate it scared me. That’s when grandma on my mom’s side stepped in. During her weekly visits, she’d casually mentioned things about dad.

He moved closer to us, only 20 minutes away now. He asks about you constantly. Still has that photo of you at the beach on his desk. One day, she grabbed my hand and made me repeat his phone number over and over until I had it memorized.

Just in case, she whispered.

I started testing boundaries in small ways. I changed my profile picture on Instagram to a photo of me and dad just to see if mom would notice. She didn’t, so I got bolder. I made a fake email account and sent Dad a message.

It’s me. I’m okay. Mom doesn’t know.

He responded in 12 seconds like he’d been waiting by his computer for 2 years. I was too nervous to respond. The closest I came to full rebellion was at Mia’s sleepover. Everyone was passed out from too much pizza.

I didn’t just stare at dad’s number. I called it and heard his voice for the first time in years.

Hello.

My throat closed up. I couldn’t speak.

Hello, is someone there? Isabella, baby, is that you?

10 seconds of silence, then quietly. I hung up and sobbed into the pillow until I threw up. He knew somehow he knew it was me.