Every night. About that day.”
I thought about all the nights I’d cried myself to sleep because of something she’d said. All the times I’d stared at the ceiling, wondering why I wasn’t enough.
“Good,” I said softly. “You should sit with that.”
She flinched.
“I don’t hate you. I don’t have the energy. But I don’t trust you. And until that changes, my answer continue reading …