The words landed gently, but they hurt more than blame would have.
Because Elias had made me feel small in dozens of quiet ways I had explained away.
He never shouted. Never broke promises in ways big enough for anyone to notice. But he teased me about being too sensitive when Brenda draped herself over his shoulder. He said Cynthia was just protective when she rearranged my kitchen without asking. He told me I was overthinking when his family joked about how lucky I was to “marry up into personality.”
Plain rice.
I could still hear his laugh.
Rebecca opened her laptop. “Let’s listen.”
I connected my phone with numb fingers.
The recording began with static, the rustle of fabric, my breathing shallow and too close to the microphone. Then Cynthia’s voice filled the library.
“She paid for it, but the money went through Elias’s account…”
My father stood and walked to the window.
