Something was wrong.
I noticed it almost immediately.
After Mom went with Daniel to get coffee, Dad pulled a chair beside my bed.
He sat down slowly.
Then took my hand.
His palm felt warm and familiar.
For a moment, I was seven again.
Thunder outside.
Dad beside my bed.
Safe.
Then he said:
“Claire, I need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“Your husband is a selfish fool.”
I blinked.
“Dad—”
“I mean it.”
His jaw tightened.
“What he did to you was cruel, humiliating, and completely his responsibility.”
I stared at him.
This was not the man who had defended Daniel two months earlier.
“I think you should leave him.”
My mouth fell open.
“What?”
“When you feel ready, your mother and I will help you. You and Noah can stay with us as long as necessary.”
