History.
Whatever story David had brought into our home, it had begun long before I knew Grace existed.
She unpacked in the spare bedroom across from our daughter’s room.
On the vanity, she placed a small framed photograph face down.
I noticed but did not ask.
I told myself she needed time.
She had lost whatever home she had known and been delivered into a family full of grief and suspicion.
But patience changes when secrets continue to grow.
Within days, a pattern emerged.
David could barely lift a glass of water without help, yet whenever Grace returned from school, he found the strength to shuffle down the hallway.
She would enter his room.
The door would close.
Then the murmuring began.
