The first crack felt like a knife under the skin. Not the missing money. Not the late nights. It was the way his eyes slid past mine, as if I’d already been erased. Every silence screamed. Every shrug burned. I packed my life into a suitcase, certain I’d uncovered the ugliest truth. Lipstick. Hotel receipts. A love story rotting from the insi… Continues… I didn’t understand the shape of what I’d broken until I stood over his casket, staring at a face I’d loved and abandoned in equal measure. Grief blurred the edges of the room, but his father’s trembling...
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