“He fixes things.”
I almost laughed.
Almost cried.
Children remembered what adults forgot.
Before our marriage became silence and lawyers and locked accounts, Ethan had repaired broken cabinet doors.
Built Lily’s crib.
Fixed toys with tiny screwdrivers.
Maybe that was why grief inside a marriage was so strange.
You weren’t only grieving what someone had done.
You were grieving every good thing that had once been true at the same time.
“Do you miss Daddy?” I asked.
Lily nodded.
“Do you?”
The question nearly broke me.
“I miss some things.”
She accepted that.
Children sometimes understood complexity better than adults.
She returned to coloring.
Marisol touched my shoulder.
“You don’t have to figure out your marriage today.”
“I know.”
“Just today.”
I looked at her.
“When did you become the sensible cousin?”
“I have three children.”
“Right.”
“And a mortgage.”
“Right.”
She smiled.
I leaned into her shoulder.
For the first time since leaving Dallas, I let someone hold part of the weight.
At 3:18 that afternoon, Adrian called.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Did you find Claire?”
“No.”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“But we found something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course you did.”
“Can you come downstairs?”
“Why?”
“I’d rather show you.”
I looked toward Marisol.
She nodded.
“I’ll stay with Lily.”
Ten minutes later, I found Adrian in a small hotel meeting room.
Daniel stood near the door.
On the table were three printed pages.
Adrian did not sit.
Neither did I.
“What is it?”
“Claire left a file on our internal server.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“For you?”
“We thought so.”
“You thought?”
“The file is password protected.”
“Then how do you know what it is?”
“We recovered the filename from the system.”
He turned the paper toward me.
I read it.
ELENA_WALKER_FINAL
My mouth went dry.
“That’s my name.”
“Yes.”
“Why would she have a file on me?”
“We don’t know.”
“When was it created?”
“Seven months ago.”
I stared at him.
Seven months.
Before the separation.
Before the photographs of Ethan and Rebecca.
Before I called Marisol.
Before I booked a flight to Houston.
“You didn’t know me seven months ago.”
“No.”
“Claire didn’t know me.”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What’s the password?”
“We haven’t broken it.”
“Can you?”
