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something. I tried to be polite. I really did. She complimented my hair once. I told her thank you. She made gluten-free lasagna. I ate it.
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something. I tried to be polite. I really did. She complimented my hair once. I told her thank you. She made gluten-free lasagna. I ate it.
And the entire time… I watched my dad smile in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time, and I told myself that maybe it didn’t have to feel like betrayal.
But she hated that photo — the one on the mantel.
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