Not because I forgave him.
Not because I wanted to pretend everything was normal.
Because I needed to think.
The broken table was not just furniture.
It was a symbol.
A warning.
A moment where the person I trusted showed me who he could become.
My phone rang at 8:15.
It was my older sister, Clara.
I almost didn’t answer.
But Clara had always known when something was wrong.
“You sound different,” she said immediately.
I smiled faintly.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
I sat near the window.
For a while, I said nothing.
Then I told her.
Not every detail.
Not yet.
Just enough.
When I finished, there was silence.
“Are you safe?” Clara asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
I looked around the condo.
The place that had always represented independence.
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
“I knew something bothered me about him.”
I closed my eyes.
