She grabbed her phone again and dialed Elizabeth. Voicemail. Again. “Elizabeth, call me right now,” she said into the receiver. Her voice cracked. She tried again. And again. Texts followed. I got a call from the lawyer, surely this is a misunderstanding right? Why would you do this??
No answer. Gwen stood in the hallway, the house echoing around her. All the warmth of the past week curdled in her memory. Every small kindness now looked staged—rehearsed. She had been a project. A task. A person to be managed. Gwen felt sick.