She chose, later, to have him tell me if the worst came.

Every one of those was her choice, made with her own mind and her own heart.

She was not the object of this story.

She was one of its authors.

And any account of what happened that reduces her to the thing that was protected has failed to understand her, which is the very failure that started all the trouble in the first place.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.