When My Child Mentioned “Aunt Phoebe,” Everything Fell Apart

Fifteen missed calls from Ethan. A stream of texts: Where are you? Don’t do this. You’re overreacting. Please. Please. Please.

Lena snorted. “He went from ‘you’re twisting this’ to ‘please’ in under ten minutes. That’s not remorse. That’s damage control.”

“I don’t even know what to do,” I admitted, and the admission felt like the most honest thing I’d continue reading …