My Father Pushed Me Into a Fountain at My Sister’s Wedding—Then He Met the Husband I’d Kept Private for Three Years

She waited for a softer answer.

I did not have one ready.

In the corridor, I checked my phone.

It still worked.

A thin white crack crossed the screen, the same crack it had carried for two months since I dropped it outside my office.

Water had reached the case, and I dried what I could with a towel.

8:39 p.m.

Eleven missed calls.