Daniel and Rebecca had a mortgage.
School expenses.
Cars.
A life built around the assumption that I would remain inside that house.
“Send me everything,” I said.
“I will.”
“And Peter?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t contact Daniel.”
“I wouldn’t without your permission.”
After we hung up, I remained at the desk.
Five minutes later, the documents arrived.
I opened the agreement.
There was my signature.
There was Daniel’s.
There was Rebecca’s.
And beneath the addendum was something I had completely forgotten.
A handwritten sentence beside Rebecca’s initials:
Loan repayment will protect Maggie’s future housing needs if she ever chooses to live independently again.
I read it twice.
Rebecca had initialed it.
Daniel had initialed it.
So had I.
They had known.
At least once, they had known.
