Linda read them in silence.
Ryan reached for the phone.
She pulled it away.
“Did you send these?”
He said nothing.
“Did you?”
“Yes, but she’s making it sound worse than it was.”
Linda’s eyes became hard.
“When your father was recovering from surgery, he snored so loudly that I barely slept for two months. Do you know what I did?”
Ryan looked away.
“I bought earplugs. I slept on the sofa when I had to. I checked his medication. I helped him stand. I never once made him feel ashamed for being in pain.”
“This is different.”
“No,” Linda said. “It is not different. Love becomes most visible when caring for someone is inconvenient.”
The apartment fell silent.
Linda lowered her voice.
“I did not raise you to believe that earning a paycheck gives you ownership over your wife. I did not raise you to confuse providing money with providing love.”
