She was twenty-three, glowing, disciplined, untouched by exhaustion.
In her video, they stood by a rooftop pool. Evan smiled like he had escaped something, not abandoned a family.
Mary glanced over my shoulder. “Is that Dad?”
I locked the phone too late. “Yes.”
She frowned. “Is that… Brielle?”
I set the phone down. “He should be ashamed.”
At the grocery store, my card was declined. Twice.
The cashier lowered her voice. “You can try another one.”
But there wasn’t another one.
The kids stood around me—George placing candy on the counter, Sophie asking about cereal, Marcus trying not to look worried.
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