“I did.”
Lily added something beside him.
A small square.
“What’s that?”
“Your suitcase.”
“I didn’t have a suitcase.”
She considered this flaw in reality.
Then turned the square into what looked like a dog.
“There.”
“Much better.”
Watching him with her confused me.
Ethan had always loved Lily.
That was part of what made everything so difficult.
People were easier when they were one thing.
Good.
Bad.
Kind.
Cruel.
Faithful.
Dishonest.
But Ethan could be patient with Lily and controlling with me.
He could remember my mother’s birthday and hide financial decisions.
He could lie to me while perhaps believing he was protecting us.
And Adrian could be considerate while still carrying secrets I didn’t understand.
Maybe growing up meant accepting that people rarely arrived in clean categories.
Maybe strength meant learning to see complexity without surrendering your own judgment.
I looked at Lily.
