No calls.
No texts. Nothing.
Colin started asking questions I couldn’t answer.
“Is Daddy mad at me?”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“When’s he coming home?”
I made excuses at first. “Work trip.
Helping a friend. Daddy needed some time alone.”
But kids aren’t stupid. They just pretend to believe you because the truth is scarier.
Then a neighbor stopped me at the mailbox one afternoon, her face full of that particular kind of pity that makes your stomach drop.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
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