Out of habit, he opened the refrigerator.

This time he smiled. “Looks better.” “Much better.”

Before he left, he glanced around the kitchen. “Are you happy, Julia?”

Such a simple question, and I didn’t answer right away. I thought about the hearings, the police reports, the humiliating photographs, the nights Ruby cried for the version of her father she’d believed was real.

Then I thought about my paycheck sitting safely in my own account, about buying groceries without fear, about sleeping without someone checking my phone. “I’m getting there,” I said.

Dad nodded.