A fact.
Only a fact.
Not a verdict on me.
Not a measure of Ryan’s worth.
Not a definition of family.
Just biology.
Eli leaned against the counter beside me.
“You okay?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I folded the paper carefully.
“I think I can put this away now.”
“Where?”
I thought about it.
Then I opened the drawer where we kept old warranties, spare keys, and takeout menus.
I placed it underneath a refrigerator manual.
Eli laughed softly.
“That seems disrespectful.”
“Exactly.”
He kissed my temple.
In the living room, Lily and Daniel were arguing about whether sixteen was old enough to watch a horror movie rated R. Daniel was losing despite being the adult.
The house was warm.
The maple tree scratched softly against the window.
The panda mug sat drying near the sink, crack visible, still holding.
I thought back to that first night.
Ryan leaving with his suitcase.
The phone going to voicemail.
