Just yes.
I picked up my purse.
“Claire, please.”
I opened the door.
“I need to leave before I say something I can’t take back.”
“You deserve to say it.”
“No.”
“You do not get to decide what I deserve anymore.”
Then I left.
That night, I went home and opened the cabinet above my sink.
Two blue mugs.
Same shape.
Same faded glaze.
I had kept buying things in pairs for ten years.
Not intentionally.
My life had learned Lily was gone.
Some part of me had not.
I did not call my parents that night.
That was the first decision I made for myself after seeing Lily.
She had controlled the truth long enough.
I would tell them.
Not her.
The following morning, I called my mother.
“Are you sitting down?”
She immediately became nervous.
“I hate when you start calls like that.”
“Please.”
“What happened?”
“Sit.”
