When we ended the call, I sat quietly for a long time.
Then I called Ethan.
His reaction was different.
He became silent, then angry.
“He did what?”
I repeated the facts.
“Does he know I’m going to find out?”
“He knows I’ve told you.”
Ethan let out a sharp breath.
“Unbelievable.”
“Please don’t do anything impulsive, sweetheart.”
“I’m not going to do anything.”
I knew that tone.
“Promise me.”
He hesitated.
“I promise I’ll talk to you before I do anything.”
It was the best I could get.
After we hung up, I sat at the kitchen table and looked around the room.
Every corner contained a memory.
The height marks we had made on the pantry door.
The scratch on the floor from the day Tyler had helped Ethan build a model airplane.
The faded spot on the wall where Olivia’s first birthday decorations had been taped.
I had spent years believing that protecting our family meant protecting the marriage at all costs.
