“This is not love.”

The words sounded small.

Yet somehow they felt stronger than anything Brandon had ever shouted.

3. The Performance The Next Morning

When I came downstairs the following morning, Brandon was already dressed for work.

His shirt was pressed.

His hair was neat.

His coffee waited on the kitchen counter.

It looked like the beginning of a normal day.

That was his favorite trick.

He wanted ordinary routines to erase extraordinary cruelty.

“About last night,” he began casually. “I drank too much.”

I remained silent.

“I said some stupid things.”