The Visit
Two days later, I went to his parents’ house. Mrs. Grant opened the door, her usual polite smile perfectly in place. “Anna,” she said sweetly, “I was wondering when you’d come.”
I looked at her—the woman who had ruined my wedding night, who had wrapped herself around her son as if he were hers to keep. My voice was steady when I finally spoke.
“We need to talk.”
What came next would tear the last thread of illusion I had left—but it would also set me free.
