“How can you say that?” she whispered.

“Because it’s the truth,” he said.

“For the first time in ten years, we are finally speaking the truth.”

He looked at me.

His eyes were filled with a deep, crushing guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am so sorry, Clara.”

I didn’t know what to say.

My throat felt like it was coated in dust.

I had spent my entire adult life trying to make him proud.

I had worked myself to the bone to prove I was strong.

And now, the foundation of our entire lives was gone.

My father reached out toward the papers on the table.

His fingers hovered over the blue ink of the signature line.

The silence in the room stretched out, tight and fragile.

Outside, the rain began to fall against the windowpane.

It was a steady, gray drizzle.

It tapped against the glass like tiny fingers.

The phone on the floor buzzed once more.

A new message appeared on the cracked screen.

I stood by the window, watching the rain run down the dirty glass.