“Come in,” Anna said again.
I stepped through the doorway, still trying to understand what she meant.
Carol had always been the person I trusted most in the world.
For thirty-six years, I had believed I knew everything important about her.
Now, standing in the home of the woman I had once planned to marry, I suddenly wondered how much of my life had been built on a story I had never been told.
Anna led me into a small living room.
There were photographs everywhere.
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