My husband pushed me down the stairs, and as I lay shattered at the bottom, my mother-in-law called my father and said, “Come get your worthless daughter and take her back.” Dad gave her only one warning: “If she has so much as a scratch, your family will answer for it.” They laughed at him because they had absolutely no idea who my father truly was.

She took a photograph of the screen with my permission and asked me not to delete anything.

Then I sent the message to Gabriel.

He returned after the examination.

“Your father is coming in now.”

Dad appeared in the doorway wearing a brown sweater with a missing button.

He held the plastic grocery bag he always carried when visiting someone sick.

Inside were my reading glasses, a phone charger, and a pair of wool socks.

His hands shook when he saw me.