“Would you rather I pretend it’s easy?” he’d asked.
He listened without interrupting.
“No.”
“Then don’t pretend with me either.”
I looked at Aunt Ria’s name again and pressed send.
She replied within minutes.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I told her everything.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The chores. The late nights. Vanessa’s remarks about college.
Then I explained what had happened that morning.
Aunt Ria called, but I asked her to text instead.
“Okay, honey.”
Her next message appeared quickly.
“Zoe, I had no idea.”
I stared at those words.
I asked her to text instead.
“Vanessa told me she wanted to look after you. I believed her.”
Then she asked how long things had been this way.
“Tell the truth, Zoe.”
“Since Dad died, more or less.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I believed her.”
I typed three different answers before sending one.
