Photographs.
Everything.
I felt something drop inside my chest.
Behind me, I heard movement from the kitchen.
I turned.
“Where is she?”
Adrian sat at the counter spreading butter across sourdough toast.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Like nothing had happened.
“Who?”
“Don’t do that.”
I stepped closer.
“Where is Sophie?”
He didn’t look up.
“She left.”
I stared.
“She left?”
“I told her to.”
My suitcase slipped from my hand and crashed onto the tile.
“YOU DID WHAT?”
Adrian finally looked at me.
“She’s eighteen.”
I gripped the counter because my knees suddenly felt weak.
“You threw my daughter out?”
“She’s an adult.”
“Where did she go?”
“How should I know?”
“You threw her out of our house and don’t know where she went?”
He took another bite.
“I got tired of her sitting around.”
“Sitting around?”
“Eating our food.”
“She lives here!”
“Living off my paycheck.”
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