risk of forgetting.
Then she had married Ryan, and little by little, the woman who didn’t miss much had learned to look away from things it was easier not to see. A comment from his mother that landed sideways. An evening where she was talked over at the table without anyone noticing. The gradual reorganization of her days around the preferences of people who would never think to ask what she preferred.
She had told herself it was compromise. That was how it started. Most erosion does.
Mrs. Parker opened the front door before the second knock. She wore a robe over flannel pajamas, silver hair pinned back, eyes sharp despite the hour and the darkness. Her gaze moved from Claire’s face to the baby to the suitcase in three quick beats.
She did not ask a gentle question. Gentle questions were for people who had slept.
“He did it,”
