The moment she was gone, my smile vanished.
Okay… okay… okay… My mother.
The same woman who ran off with my fiancé. The same woman I hadn’t spoken to in years.
And now my husband was meeting her in secret. And paying my daughter to stay quiet about it.
I grabbed my keys before I could talk myself out of it.
“Lila!” I called.
She peeked out from the hallway. “Yeah?”
“I need to step out for a bit. Won’t be long.”
“Okay.”
My mother’s house hadn’t changed. Same worn porch. Same crooked steps.
As I turned onto her street, I saw it immediately — Daniel’s car, parked right in front.
“Business trip,” I murmured. “Okay…”
I walked up the path slowly, gravel crunching under my boots. At the door, I hesitated.
Then I reached into my bag and pulled out the old key. Mom had given it to me back when “sweetheart” still sounded real.
Click. The lock opened easily. She never changed it.
I slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind me. Voices drifted from the living room. I moved closer, step by step, until I reached the doorway and listened.
“She can’t find out,” Daniel said. “Not yet.”
My fingers pressed into the wall. Not yet?
