When she came back down, she smiled at me and asked if I wanted the recipe.
A drawer.
Then another.
When she came back down, she smiled at me and asked if I wanted the recipe.
That night, the hair was gone.
The receipt had moved.
She once told Austin my nightstand drawer was cluttered.
I didn’t confront her. I started documenting.
I kept dates in my phone, visiting times, what had shifted, what Kathryn said afterward that proved she had been in my things. She once told Austin my nightstand drawer was cluttered.
Another time she asked why I needed “so many special bras.” Austin heard every comment and defended her every time.
Around then, the family tablet became part of daily life. Austin kept it on the kitchen counter for grocery lists, recipes, and calls with his sister.
One Thursday night I picked it up to find a marinade Austin’s sister had sent.
