“We tried,” my father says, his voice low and filled with regret. “But by the time Sarah recovered, we had nothing left. We didn’t know how to face you.”
“I’m so sorry.” My mother leans over with shaking hands, patting my bag and wrist a few times before folding her fingers around mine. “We wanted… we wanted to be there, but thought you’d be better off without us.”
Tears well up in my eyes. A part of me wants to trust them and forgive them. But before I can say anything, a commotion near the entrance draws our attention.
Two police officers stride purposefully towards us, their expressions grim. My heart sinks. This can’t be good.
“Excuse me,” one officer says, flashing his badge. “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Thompson?”
My parents exchange a quick, panicked glance.
“Yes,” my father replies cautiously.
The officer’s eyes narrow. “You’re under arrest for multiple counts of theft, including dining and dashing, and for robbing patrons.”
The other officer steps forward and opens my mother’s handbag. She pulls out my wallet. My stomach drops as realization dawns on me. Their story was just another ruse, a twisted scheme to rob me.
“No, there must be some mistake,” I stammer, even as the truth settles heavily in my gut. “They’re my parents.”
