We had faced the same man, in the same house, with far less power than she held, and we had made the opposite choice.

Fear did not force her to do what she did; fear was simply the excuse she reached for afterward.

She had a choice, at every step, the same choice we had, and where we chose each other, she chose the man who paid the mortgage.

That is not weakness.

Weakness is a thing that happens to you.

What my mother did, she did — chose, and kept choosing, morning after morning, for three years.

Nora’s sentence named it exactly, and my mother’s silence confirmed it, and I have never needed to hear anything more from her since.