I returned without warning after four years in Canada and found my wife with a shaved head, skin and bones, eating scraps in the backyard….018
because I wanted to surprise my wife.
For four years, I’d worked twelve-hour shifts, eaten reheated meals in a shop that smelled like burnt metal, and spent winters that cracked my lips. Every month, I
sent between two and three thousand dollars to Theresa’s bank account.
The money was supposed to finish the house, build our future, and take care of Lucy while I was gone. Altogether, I’d sent almost a hundred thousand dollars, plus a
bonus every December.
I never questioned it.
I trusted my mother. I trusted Brianna. Most of all, I believed my wife was safe.
During our video calls, Lucy always said, “I’m fine, my love. Don’t worry.”
Then, a few months ago, she stopped turning on her camera. Bad internet, she said. An old phone. She was tired.
Now I knew why.
Lucy tried to stand, but her legs buckled. Brianna came outside in a new dress holding a wine glass.
“Hurry up. We still need the dinner plates.”
