“You said terrible things.”
“I was ill.”
“You said you wanted to disappear.”
“I got help.”
“But what if it comes back?”
Her voice broke.
“What if everyone relaxes and something happens?”
Ben shook his head.
“Then we respond to what is happening, not to what happened five years ago.”
Diane began crying.
“I couldn’t lose Sophie.”
The truth finally surfaced.
This had never been only about protecting Sophie.
Diane had become Sophie’s primary caregiver during the worst months of my illness. She fed her, rocked her, and slept beside her crib when I was in treatment.
When I recovered, Diane had to step back.
But she never truly did.
“You believed every nanny was replacing you,” I said.
“No.”
“Then why frighten them away?”
“I needed someone responsible.”
“You needed someone loyal to you.”
She did not deny it.
Ben picked up the folder.
Don’t miss
“You kept records on my wife for five years.”
“I kept proof.”
“Of her recovery?”
Diane looked at him.
“Of the risk.”
I felt something inside me settle.
For years, I had carried shame about the mother I had been during those months. Diane had turned that shame into a weapon and convinced others that recovery was an illusion.
