She pushed past me and disappeared up the stairs.
I stood there, biting back a scream.
I wanted to march upstairs and demand every answer he owed me.
But I didn’t.
Because I loved him.
Because he was dying.
Because a part of me was terrified of what the truth would cost.
I stood there, biting back a scream.
Three days later, David went into the hospital and didn’t come home.
The funeral was a blur of black coats and casseroles.
Grace stood beside our children the whole time.
People asked me who she was.
I told them she was family.
I still didn’t know if that was true.
People asked me who she was.
The night after we buried him, I lay in our bed.
His side was cold for the first time in fifteen years.
I couldn’t stop staring at the ceiling, cataloging every unanswered question he had left behind like unpaid bills.
