Years passed like that. Josh and Raiden learned to walk, then run, then shout for ice cream at the worst possible moments. Our house was chaos, but the kind of chaos I’d begged for in every silent prayer.
Years passed like that.
Still, Anna’s smiles faded. She became jumpy at family gatherings, anxious around my mom’s questions, quieter when the church gossip reached our door.
Then, after the boys’ third birthday, I found Anna in their dark bedroom. I flicked on the hallway light.
“Anna? You okay?”
She flinched, then shook her head. “Henry, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t lie to you.”
My heart raced. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t lie to you.”
She reached behind her, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “You need to read this. I tried to protect you. I tried to protect the boys.”
