I felt no satisfaction in his downfall—only indifference. He had become nothing more than a distant memory, like a story I had finished long ago.
One evening, as I sat in the garden, Aiden climbed onto my lap. He had grown taller, his expression more open and certain.
“Mom,” he asked softly, “are we happy here?”
I looked around at our modest home, the peaceful street, and the life we had rebuilt from the ruins of deception. I thought about the financial security we now had—and the absence of fear that once defined our days…continue reading …
