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On my husband’s phone, I saw he’d paid our tenant Tessa’s rent. I swiped the screen away without a word. He caught my expression immediately and offered an explanation. “She’s a little short on cash right now, so I helped her out.” I just hummed in response and turned to look out the car window. He didn’t speak again until he pulled over to the curb. “Let’s go back to your hometown for Thanksgiving,” he said suddenly. “We can visit your mom at the hospice.” I whipped my head around, my back to him, not wanting him to see the tears welling in my eyes. My mother, June, had died three weeks ago. He still didn’t know. … My voice was hoarse when I finally refused. “There’s no need.” There was no need to ever go back. But he misunderstood, assuming I was still upset about the rent. “You’re still stuck on that?” Daniel held his phone out to me. He feigned a look of helplessness, but his tone was open, matter-of-fact. “Go ahead, look. Every message between us is right there. I’ve told you before—I’m just helping her.” He sounded like he was humoring a child throwing a tantrum. I turned my face away, my tears already dry. “I’m not mad.” Daniel sighed, wrapping his arms around me from behind and rubbing my back in slow, gentle circles. “And you say you’re not mad.” His voice was warm, but there was no give in it. “I cleared my schedule for Thanksgiving specifically so we could go home with you and see June. If we miss this chance, who knows when we’ll get another one.” Numb, I pushed him away and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.” Before she died, my mother kept saying my husband was so busy with work that she still hadn’t gotten the chance to see him. He should go back. He should have to stand before my mother’s grave and answer for all the hope she wasted waiting for him. After all, once the divorce was final, he’d never have a reason to go as her son-in-law again. … I booked my flight online and, while I was at it, ordered a wreath of flowering dogwood—my mother’s favorite. On Thanksgiving Day, Daniel didn’t show up on time. I’d almost been expecting it. Calmly, I picked up the suitcase I’d packed days ago and drove myself to the airport. He didn’t call until the cabin door was about to close. “Sorry, Hannah. Tessa’s car broke down on the highway, and I have to go deal with it.” His voice was rushed. “Just change your flight. Tonight we can—” Looking out the airplane window, I cut him off, my voice flat. “No need. I’m already on the plane.” He seemed to choke on his words for a second before his tone sharpened with impatience. “I already told you, it wasn’t her fault. The car is old. Can you stop making such a big deal out of this?” “Just go handle it.” I closed my eyes, exhausted to the bone. “When you’re done, fly out tomorrow.” I could hear the relief flood his voice. “Okay, okay. I’ll definitely be there tomorrow.” Instantly, he slipped back into that gentle, easygoing tone. “I’ll bring June that pecan pie from her favorite place. She’ll be thrilled.” “I’m tired. I’m going to get some sleep.” I cut him off again. The second I heard him mention my mother, the tears started to fall. I wanted so badly to scream at him: *She can’t eat it! Where the hell were you before?* But I was too tired. Too tired to fight for myself anymore. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to keep playing the clown, pathetically begging for a sliver of his attention. As long as he came, it would be enough. As long as he came and placed a bouquet on her grave for her to see, it would be enough. After all, Daniel was an orphan. My mother, June, had dipped into her retirement fund to support his startup and had always treated him like her own son. But in the end, I had still overestimated him.My uncle picked me up at the airport. When he saw I was alone, his expression darkened. That night, my aunt sat on the edge of my bed and asked cautiously, “Did you and Daniel have a fight? Your mother could tell something was wro......

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