Enid cried herself to sleep night after night, clutching a wooden tablet with my name carved into it like it was all she had left. She even let the dog bite her, just so it wouldn’t damage my memorial.
After I finally coaxed her to sleep, I sat at the edge of the bed, but there was no peace in my heart.
I had told her we didn’t need that kind of father anymore—but she hadn’t agreed. She didn’t say a word.
I knew. Deep down, she still missed him.
No matter how often Milford criticized her for being a girl, said she was weak or worthless, she still longed for his love. Still saw him as her dad.
Should I give Milford one more chance—for her sake?
I was lost in thought when suddenly, I felt myself pulled into a warm embrace. The scent of milk and postpartum sweat clung thick in the air.
“Lori,” came a voice from behind me, trembling with emotion. “Thank God… you’re alive. You made it back to me.”
Milford pressed soft kisses along my neck, his voice low and caring, “I promised my brother I’d take care of Lisa... that I’d give him an heir. When she found out she was pregnant, she had a terrible time with it—constant sickness, fainting spells. I had to stay by her side. That’s why I wasn’t there to save you.”
“I have looked everywhere for you. But then, I heard you were dead... Lori, it broke me.”
I pushed him away, swallowing down the nausea that rose in my throat. My voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.
“I’m back now. Very much alive. Yet, you're still going to marry her. Isn't that correct? You DO still plan on making her your wife.”
Milford gave a helpless sigh, as if I were being unreasonable. “Of course not. You’re my wife. You always have been. The wedding’s just for show—I’m not signing any papers.”
“I need to give Lisa and Eddy some kind of status, so people won’t gossip. That’s all this is—just a performance. You know that. We’re the real thing. Legally, emotionally—everything. You’ve always been so understanding, Lori. You won’t make a big deal out of this... right?”
So that was it. He still expected me to live in the shadows—officially dead, unofficially his. Hidden. Forgotten. Then, with the same casual entitlement, Milford started to undo the buttons of my blouse.