Then he said something I would replay in my head for weeks.
“The house is in her name. I need to make sure everything gets transferred properly first. Until then, I have to keep acting like the devoted husband.”
My entire body went cold.
Lisa murmured something too softly for me to understand.
Dad answered,
“Once the paperwork is done, we won’t have to pretend anymore.”
I backed away from the kitchen.
Slowly.
Silently.
I carried the groceries straight outside before either of them realized I had been there.
Then I sat in my car with both hands gripping the steering wheel.
I didn’t cry.
I couldn’t.
Instead, my mind started replaying little memories.
Dad putting Mom’s blanket in the dryer because she was always cold after treatment.
Lisa helping Mom wrap a scarf around her head.
Dad kissing Mom’s forehead before they drove to the hospital.
