The coldness, the distance, the way he seemed unable to look at her; had it been because she was a reminder of betrayal rather than his own flesh and blood? Her throat tightened. She could almost hear him in her memory, brushing her off, dismissing her with that tired wave of the hand. Maybe it had all been because she didn’t belong to him in the first place.
Miriam gripped the twine, her breath shallow. She told herself she had to know, no matter how painful. For a lifetime, the attic had been locked against her; now, the truth was pressing from the inside, waiting to break free. With a sharp tug, the twine gave way, the fibers snapping in her hands.