Maya turned on me. “Say something, Robert. Tell her this isn’t the whole story.”
“Oh my God.”
I stood.
“It isn’t,” I said.
Maya’s face shifted, like she still thought I might save her.
“The whole story is worse. I begged you to call. I begged you to send cards. I begged you to remember they were little girls, not furniture you left behind in a house you outgrew.”
Harry stared at her. “You told me he changed his number.”
“The whole story is worse.”
“I kept the same number,” I said. “Same email. Same house. You just preferred the version where I was the villain.”
Maya whispered, “You’re humiliating me.”
“No,” I said. “You built this lie. We’re just standing in the wreckage of it.”
Maya looked at Harry.
He stepped back.
Nobody followed.
Then Jerome carefully lifted the microphone. “I think it’s time for the father-daughter dance.”
