And he put his hand over mine and said, gently, “We just have to accept the situation, don’t we.” The situation. Meaning me.

He agreed with her while holding my hand, and somehow the hand-holding made the agreement feel like tenderness instead of a verdict.

I thanked him for it later.

I actually thanked him.

That is what six years of that kind of love does to a person: it trains you to be grateful for the softness of the hand that’s holding you down.

I did not know then that he was holding my hand over a lie he had bought and paid for.