I lie awake for a long time that night.
Not because of Vanessa. Not because of whisper campaigns or
cold shoulders or charity luncheons. Because of something Zara
Bennett said to herself in the back of a car on the way home.
It has to be me.
I said it like it was simple. Like deciding to say something
true to Adrian Knight is just a thing you do on a Tuesday.
It isn’t. I know that. But I also know that lying in the dark
pretending I don’t feel what I feel is getting harder every
single day and at some point the effort of not saying it is
going to cost more than just saying it.
I fall asleep somewhere around 2 AM with no decision made and
wake up at 7 to six news alerts on my phone.
The headlines are worse than I expected.
Not dramatic, front page worse. Quiet, specific worse.
