she were asking him to move an old sofa into the garage.
My son stood beside her, staring at the floor.
He didn’t defend me. He didn’t remind her whose house she was standing in. He didn’t even ask whether she understood how cruel her words sounded.
He simply remained silent.
And somehow, that silence hurt more than Harper’s demand.
My name is Georgia. My late husband and I spent years building our life in that house. We bought it when David was still a little boy, back when money
