Kelvin crossed his arms, giving me a cold look. “If she’s dead, where’s the proof?”
The words barely registered. Proof? He thought I was lying? The absurdity of it left me speechless, staring at him as if I didn’t know him at all. Maybe I didn’t.
Silence thickened, almost choking. And then, finally, Kelvin looked away, unease flickering in his eyes. “I don’t have time for this, Lucille.” he muttered, brushing me off like I was nothing more than a nuisance.
“You never had time for any of it, did you?” I whispered, mostly to myself.
Patricia rolled her eyes. “Let her go, Kelvin. Maybe she’ll realize how silly she’s being once she cools off.”
Kelvin didn’t look at me as he helped Patricia to the couch, setting her down with a gentleness I’d never known from him. He knelt in front of her, his eyes soft, his touch tender as he adjusted her sling. I felt like an outsider in my own home, watching them like I was invisible.
I’d always known he was distant, that he never fully belonged to me. But seeing it so plainly, knowing how easily he replaced me, hurt more than anything.
As I watched Kelvin tending to Patricia, a painful memory crept into my mind, sharp as a blade.