The house felt too quiet that night.
I sat at the kitchen table, the same one where I'd once laid out hotel receipts like evidence. I remembered his face that night, closed off, stubborn. Almost relieved that the secret was finally out, even if the truth wasn't.
What if Frank was telling the truth?
What if those hotel rooms weren't about hiding someone else, but about hiding himself?
I sat there for hours, turning it over in my mind.
I remembered his face that night.
***
Three days later, a courier envelope arrived. My name was typed neatly on the front. I opened it standing in the hallway, still in my coat. Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A letter… I recognized Troy's handwriting immediately.
I need you to know this plainly: I lied to you, and I chose to.
Tears pricked at my eyes. I staggered to the closest chair and collapsed into it before reading the rest.
I recognized Troy's handwriting immediately.
I was getting medical treatment.
I didn't know how to explain without changing the way you saw me. It wasn't local. It wasn't simple. And I was afraid that once I said it out loud, I would become your responsibility instead of your partner.
So I paid for rooms. I moved money. I answered your questions badly. And when you asked me directly, I still didn't tell you.
That was wrong.
I didn't know how to explain without changing the way you saw me.\
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