room at the photos of us—graduation, my wedding, holidays. Every smile now looked like a lie. Every hug felt like a shackle. The house that had been my home now felt like a prison built by a man who couldn’t live with what he’d done.
I wondered who the woman at the mailbox was. Perhaps a relative of a witness, or someone Thomas had wronged in his quest to keep his secret. Whoever she was, she had waited until he was gone to hand me the keys to my own
