opening a present before I could stop him.
Mother shouted from the kitchen that nobody could open gifts until she’d had coffee.
Dad protested that she’d never imposed such a rule when I was young.
The house filled with noise.
Beautiful, ordinary noise.
Nobody told me to be quiet.
I looked around and understood what Cole had truly lost when he sent the photograph.
Not my inheritance.
Not our prestigious family connections.
Not the penthouse.
Not the illusion of a perfect marriage.
He’d lost the version of me who believed
