I didn’t answer.
Instead, I signed up for the classes I’d put off years ago. I took a part-time job. I rebuilt a routine that didn’t revolve around deciphering his silence.
The most painful experience wasn’t crossing the road.
It wasn’t the airport footage.
It wasn’t even about filing a custody application.
It was understood that this was not a sudden outburst.
It was a slow erasure.
And I was standing inside the whole time.
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