“YOU CAN trust me again.”
Robert said it like it was a gift he was placing carefully in my hands.
We were sitting in his living room, the same one I used to think felt safe. Soft lighting. Neutral tones. Everything arranged just slightly too perfectly. The scent of coffee lingered in the air even though neither of us was drinking it anymore.
I stared at my hands in my lap.
“I do not know if I trust anyone right now,” I said.
Robert leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, expression open and patient. That look used to undo me. The understanding man. The steady one.
“That makes sense,” he said gently. “You have been through hell.”
I nodded.
“You should not have had to go through it alone,” he added.
Something in my chest tightened.
“I was not alone,” I said before I could
