I wanted to tell her it was.

I wanted to list the birthdays and vacations and school plays that proved our family had been real.

But she was asking something else: whether she could trust tomorrow to resemble yesterday.

“I can’t promise everything will stay the same,” I said.

“I can promise you won’t have to carry our secrets.”

After she fell asleep, I checked the locks, made a cup of tea I never drank, and wrote down what had happened at the gala while the details were clear.

I documented Derek’s words, Grace’s question, and my decision to leave.