When I wasn’t using them, it made sense to stop thinking of myself as a forensic accountant at all, and to start thinking of myself only as a wife, and then only as a mother.

Each step was reasonable.

Each step was a door quietly closing.

And the sum of all those reasonable steps was a woman who had forgotten, almost entirely, that she had once been formidable — who had let a whole trained and capable self be filed away in a drawer she no longer opened, because the life she was living did not seem to have any use for it.

Luke had watched that happen over nine years, and I think he had come to believe the diminished version was the real one, the only one, the whole of me.