They were out.
The lie was over.
The next morning, my mother called and asked, very carefully, “Do you want to tell me what happened last night?”
So I did.
She went silent for so long I thought the call had dropped. Then she said, “I’m coming over.”
Then I deleted every one.
I said, “Okay.”
My phone filled with messages from Evan and Clara. I read the previews. Apologies. Explanations. Requests to talk. Claims that it was complicated.
Then I deleted every one.
They were not getting one more piece of me for free.
Not because I was healed. Not because I was calm. Because I already knew enough.
They had taken my trust, my marriage, and the version of family I thought I had.
