I stepped forward then, something finally breaking loose in my chest after weeks of holding it carefully still. “You accused Grandma first.”
He turned toward me, genuinely startled, as though he’d forgotten I was standing there at all. “What?”
“You told her to go home.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand what happened.”
“I was standing there.”
“You were confused.”
“No.” I looked at him directly, my voice steadier than I expected it to come out. “I was the only person in that family who wasn’t pretending.”
My mother whispered my name, a soft, pleading sound. I ignored her.
My father stared at me for a long moment. Then his voice dropped, became quiet in a way that was somehow more frightening than the anger had been.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
I almost smiled, despite everything. “Actually, Dad, I think I finally do.”
