My hands are trembling when I press the doorbell.
Less than a minute later, my mother opens the door. Her forehead creases the moment she sees me.
“I didn’t know you’d be stopping by today. You look pale. Are you alright?” she asks, stepping aside so I can come in.
“No. I’m not. I need to talk to Dad.”
He’s in the living room when I step inside. Book in his lap, the same calm presence that used to make me feel safe.
He smiles when he sees me, stands, arms open. But for the first time in my life, I don’t want to hug my father.
When he realizes I haven’t moved, his arms fall to his sides, confusion darkening his expression.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I need to talk to you. Alone. It’s important.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother approaching, standing beside him.
“What could be so important that you’re acting this strange, Cecily?” she asks, her voice thick with worry.
“I’d rather speak to Dad alone, Mom. It’s better that way.”
Her posture shifts, defensive.
“Your father doesn’t hide things from me,” she says. “Whatever it is, you can say it in front of both of us.”
I look at them. United, solid, the picture of a perfect marriage.
The kind of love I once wanted for myself. The kind I built my life around.
And for a moment, I wonder if she knows. If saying it out loud will break her heart the way mine has already been broken.
I take a sharp breath. “It’s about Graceline.”
My mother stumbles backward as if I’d slapped her. The color drains from her face.
“H–How do you know that name?” she whispers, her voice trembling with fear and fury. “Who told you about her?”
“Did you already know?” I ask, my voice caught somewhere between relief—that it isn’t me breaking her heart—and the sharp sting of disappointment for being kept in the dark.
When my mother doesn’t answer, when she won’t even look at me, I keep going.
“Her daughter was at my house less than half an hour ago. She told me everything.”
My father closes his eyes and turns his back to me.
He stands there, rigid.
My mother lowers herself into the armchair Dad was sitting in just moments ago, her hands trembling as they grip the armrests, as if the weight of the truth might pull her under.
When he finally turns back, his expression has changed. Calmer. Almost detached.
“I don’t know what that girl told you, but I can assure you, much of it can’t be true.”
“She’s not a girl, Dad. She’s a woman now. The same woman Colin had an affair with. Maya—his assistant.” My voice breaks on her name.
My mother gasps.
