If he can hide that from me… A thought—ugly, immediate—rose like bile: Was I taking care of him… or was I being managed? She tried the camera app again, a reflex more than hope. Still dead. There was only one way to bring it back. Go home. Julia stood so quickly her chair rolled back and bumped the wall. She grabbed her coat, her bag, her keys.
She didn’t tell anyone she was leaving. She didn’t ask permission from a life that had stopped asking permission from her years ago. In the elevator, she stared at the closed doors and tried to breathe like a normal person.