Holding the Secret
Dad barely glanced up from his papers, his face etched with the weariness of office stress that seemed to cling to him. Each line on his face told a story of exhaustion, of work that never stopped. Part of me longed to confide in him about my stepmom, but it felt wrong to add another burden to his already heavy load. I held back, forcing a smile whenever his tired eyes met mine. But in the back of my mind, I knew that time was running out, and soon, I’d have to face the truth.
Holding The Secret
Return of the Facade
As if nothing had changed, my stepmother resumed her daily routine, her mask securely in place. Our lunches became nothing more than polite exchanges, devoid of the warmth they once held. She moved through the house with a confidence that felt rehearsed, as though daring me to challenge her. Yet, the weight of what I knew hung between us, making every interaction feel increasingly tense. Each smile she flashed at me felt empty, a hollow gesture that couldn’t mask the betrayal simmering just beneath the surface.
Return Of The Facade
