Noah started to cry. I pulled him into my arms.
Officer Haines escorted Raymond to the exit. Raymond kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
Mark’s face twisted in rage, then he looked at Noah and forced him to calm down.
When we got home, Mark was waiting in the driveway, pale and trembling.
“What happened?”
I told him the short version.
That evening, after Noah had fallen asleep, I sat down at the table with some documents. Mark was standing behind my chair.
“I’m the one who should have left,” he whispered. “Not Ethan.”
Two days later, I went to the cemetery alone.
“Stop,” I said.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he said.
“Please,” I said. “We have Noah. We can’t afford to fall apart.”
“You did what you had to do.”
“I know,” I said.
Two days later, I went to the cemetery alone.
I pressed my palm against the cold stone.
The air passed through my coat. I placed daisies on Ethan’s stone and traced his name with my fingertip.
“Hi, baby,” I said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.”
My eyes were burning. I let them do it.
“I can’t forgive him,” I said. “Not now. Maybe never.”
Silence filled the room.
“I’m done letting strangers speak for you,” I told Ethan. “No more secrets. No more borrowed words.”
I stood up and breathed until my chest stopped trembling.
I pressed my palm against the cold stone.
“I’ll make sure Noah is safe,” I said. “And I’ll keep you safe.”
I stood there and breathed.
I was still in pain.
But that was the pain associated with the truth.
And I could stand it.
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