None came.
Richard never pressured me to share his bedroom, and he never asked Emily to call him her father.
He gave us space, respect, and security.
He spoiled Emily, but not simply with expensive gifts.
He spent hours teaching her chess.
“Think before you act,” he would tell her. “Every choice matters.”
When Emily became sick with a fever, Richard stayed beside her through the night, reading stories and changing the damp cloth on her forehead.
“You should have woken me,” I said.
“You needed sleep,” he answered simply.
Eventually, I stopped searching for a motive behind every kind thing he did.
There was no trap.
There was no demand waiting at the end.
I cared deeply for Richard, though I never truly thought of him as a husband in the ordinary sense.
