“What truth?” I asked.
She looked at my husband, not at me. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Not today,” he said quietly.
My heart began to pound, slow and heavy.
“Tell me what?” I asked again.
My mother-in-law sighed, as if she had been carrying a heavy box for too long. “She deserves to know. It’s been five years.”
The music from the living room drifted into the hallway. Someone laughed loudly. A balloon popped.
“Tell me what,” I repeated, my voice sharper now.
My husband stepped outside and gently pulled the door almost closed behind him, leaving it slightly open. I followed. The cool air hit my skin, but I barely felt it.
“She’s not… random,” my mother-in-law said carefully. “Evelyn.”
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