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Seven.
I pressed the play button on the recorder. Emily's voice, quiet but steady, penetrated the room.
“Dad, why do you still have a family?”
"It's complicated, Emily..." David's voice filled the room. "I love you both. But I have another family. And it wasn't a mistake, Emily. This... My other family was built on love. I've supported them for years. Please don't tell Mom. She doesn't need to know."
"You lied to him," Emily said, her voice strained. "And to me, too. All this time? They said those children were a colleague's. You told me you kept them. Don't you remember? I found you with them at the bakery that summer... Why lie to your own daughter?"
The recording ended with a sudden gasp, followed by silence.
I looked at the photos again. My hands were shaking so much I had to put them down. All I could think about was the night of his accident...
That was three nights ago. Emily's car skidded on the road; the police said it was due to hydroplaning. She had walked this route hundreds of times. During the day, in the rain, and even once when she was sick with the flu.
But that night... Something made him lose control... I kept wondering if she was crying during the drive.
The chronology corresponded to the date of registration. Too close.
I heard footsteps on the stairs. I knew they were David's, slow and deliberate.
I stood up, holding the recorder in my hand. When he entered the room, I didn't speak. I simply waved it in the silence that reigned between us.
His face turned pale. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"You wanted to throw away his things," I said in a low but unwavering voice. "The day after his funeral? Because... Did you know she had evidence of your second life somewhere?"
David froze, as if the words had hit him harder than I ever could.
"Shay," he whispered, approaching me slowly, as if I were about to break. "Please... I can explain."
"She knew," I said. "Emily knew. And she confronted you."
He fell to his knees, not from accomplishment, but as if something inside him had been released. His hands fell to the mat. His head hung like a child caught in the act.
"I didn't touch his car!" he said, his eyes wide open. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I swear to you on everything I hold dear..." I never wanted her to... die. My God, Shay, I wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how. She surprised me that night. I begged her not to say anything. I told him I would fix it. And then she... Then she died."
His voice broke. The tears now flowed in streams. But I looked at him with a strange, empty calm.
He shook his head and stared at the wall behind me.
"I thought if I could just make his things disappear, I wouldn't have to face my guilt again. Every shirt, every book... everything reminded me of what I had done. Every time I walked past his door, I couldn't breathe."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something away. But nothing came. I just felt... quiet. Heavy.
But I didn't scream or cry. I turned around and walked out of the room.
The next morning, I asked for a divorce. I sat down at the kitchen table, the same one where Emily used to do her homework, and neatly signed my name on every page.
