Elena’s face crumpled.
“I didn’t know how to come back.”
“You could have knocked.”
He said it so quietly that somehow it hurt more.
“Our door was in the same place for eleven years.”
Julian stepped away from Elena.
Not dramatically.
Just one step.
But everybody noticed.
He looked at her.
“You said he threatened you.”
Elena started crying.
“I felt threatened.”
“That’s different.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t understand.”
“No.”
Julian’s voice was low.
“I’m beginning to think I don’t.”
Chloe watched her mother’s carefully constructed story unravel without anyone needing to shout.
That was the strange part.
The letters were enough.
The drawings were enough.
The journal was enough.
The six daughters standing together were enough.
