"What was their response?" I fixed my gaze on my father and watched him draw closer to us.
He took a seat beside my mother and heaved a sigh. "They didn't say anything regarding that, but they agreed to allow your visits. Unlike before, you'll be able to visit us more frequently," he explained.
Oh, they didn't answer his questions.
"How are you doing?" He inquired.
"I'm fine—maybe not fine, but I'm holding out," I exhaled.
"You should; you have to. For the sake of us all," my father said, shaking his head. Just then, my brothers arrived. My two younger brothers, Everett and Tate, rushed into the house.
"Mom, where is she? Mom, is she home?" Tate, my youngest brother, asked, looking around for us.
"We're here," Mom called out, and they came over to the visitors' area.
"Mom, Dad." They greeted both Mom and Dad before coming to me. They threw themselves at me, and I didn't hesitate to return the gesture.
But why are they so tall? They look different. More mature.
