The messages weren’t hidden. They were brazen.
To: Rachel
She’s finally sleeping through the night. Easier to discipline now.
To: Rachel
Lena’s too soft. The kid needs structure.
To: Rachel
Once the baby comes, she’ll be too busy to notice anything.
Rachel.
Her cousin. Her confidante. The woman who’d driven her to every OB-GYN appointment during her first pregnancy, who’d held her hand through labor, who’d brought homemade chicken soup every Tuesday last winter when morning sickness turned into all-day nausea.
Betrayal didn’t roar. It didn’t scream or shatter glass.
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