I couldn’t do that. I made a promise the day you were born. This is what that promise looks like.
So forgive me. Or don’t. But above all, I beg of you this: don’t let him spin this into another pretty lie. The man you married didn’t change. He simply learned to hide his knife better.
I look up. Sasha stands a dozen yards away from me, looking back.
He took off his jacket while we were dancing. Now, the first raindrops of a storm that snuck over the horizon splatter against his shoulders. Every single one leaves its mark.
“Not again,” I whisper. “Not again.”
The letter slips from my fingers. It touches the dirt at my feet. As it does, something rips through me. Lightning, but not lightning in the sky. This is lightning from within.
With it comes a fear. I wish I had a word, but it’s u
