“I have enough,” I said.

“You have nothing,” he said, his face inches from mine. “You are an anxious mother who is obsessed with old family history. You’ve been seeing a therapist for your anxiety. I have the records of your prescriptions.”

I felt a chill run down my spine.

“You’ve been giving me things too,” I whispered.

“I’ve been helping you manage your stress,” he said. “You forget things. You misplace your keys. You get confused about timelines.”

The pieces began to fit together in my mind.

The mornings I woke up feeling groggy, unable to remember the night before.

The times I was sure I had locked the back door, only to find it wide open.

“You’ve been gaslighting me,” I said. “For years.”

“I’ve been protecting this family,” Nathan said. “Everything I do is for us. For you, for Lily, for my mother.”

“You’re sick,” I said.

“I am a successful surgeon,” he said. “I am a provider. People trust me with their lives every single day.”

“They shouldn’t,” I said.