I simply told the truth.
When the verdict finally came, I felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
Afterward, I sold the house.
I couldn’t imagine raising a family there.
I couldn’t imagine waking up every morning and seeing that bathroom again.
I moved into a smaller apartment across town.
For the first time in years, I didn’t hear a brush scraping against porcelain before bed.
I didn’t smell bleach in the hallway.
I didn’t wonder what my husband was hiding behind a closed door.
Clare remained beside me through all of it.
One Sunday morning, months after everything ended, she came over for coffee.
She looked around my new apartment and smiled.
“You know what I realized?”
“What?”
“You don’t check the bathroom door anymore.”
I laughed softly.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“You used to.”
I looked down at my coffee.
She was right.
For years, I had unconsciously listened whenever Ethan disappeared into that room.
