“Enough.”
Andrew finally looked at him.
“No. You’ve had six years.”
Marcus turned to me.
“He’s trying to blame me because he can’t take responsibility for running away.”
Andrew unlocked his phone.
“You really want to keep lying?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Andrew held up the screen.
“I kept these because one day I knew I’d need them.”
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“What are those?”
“The reason I never came home.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“They don’t prove anything.”
“Then let Mom read them.”
He walked toward me. Marcus moved to block him, and without thinking, I stepped between them. It was the first time in years I had stood between my husband and my son.
“Move,” I said.
Marcus stared at me.
“Liza.”
“Move.”
He hesitated, then he stepped aside.
Andrew placed the phone in my hands. The messages were dated the night of his birthday. The first one had arrived 18 minutes after he left the house.
“Don’t come back tonight.”
Another followed less than a minute later.
“Your mother deserves one peaceful day.”
I frowned.
Then I kept reading.
“She spends all her time defending you.”
“She’s exhausted.”
My hands began to shake.
The next message nearly made me drop the phone.
“If you really love her, disappear.”
A sound escaped my throat that didn’t feel human.
“No.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
“Keep reading.”
There were more.
“She’ll always choose me.”
“I’m the husband. You’re the problem.”
“Give her the chance to have a normal life.”
My vision blurred.
I looked up at Marcus.
“You sent these?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I looked back at the phone. The final message had been sent just before midnight.
“Don’t contact her again. She’ll heal faster if you’re gone.”
Tears rolled down my face.
I couldn’t breathe. I had spent so much time believing my son had chosen to leave me, yet all that time, he’d been carrying the weight of those messages.
I slowly looked at Andrew.
“You believed this.”
He nodded.
“I already felt like I was tearing the house apart.”
His voice was quiet.
