“That’s great,” he said cheerfully. “You can finally relax.”
Later, I watched him pack snacks into a small bag while Ruby bounced around in her coat.
“The museum,” he replied easily. “Dinosaur exhibit.”
As soon as they drove off, I opened the family tablet and checked the shared location.
The blue dot moved.
But not toward the museum.
I followed from a distance, my heart pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. The dot stopped in front of a cozy building decorated with wreaths and string lights.
A brass plaque by the door read:
Molly H. — Family & Child Therapy
My knees nearly buckled.
Nothing about it looked romantic.
Nothing about it made sense.
My hand trembled as I reached for the door handle.
And that was the moment everything I thought I knew began to shift.
