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“I know.”
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke much. Michael stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
Finally, Christine said, “I hated you.”
“I noticed.”
She winced. “Not because you were wrong.
Because you said no—and nobody had ever really done that to me before.”
I studied her carefully. No dramatics now. Just exhaustion.
Maybe honesty for the first time in years.
She stared at the blanket over her lap. “Mom always protected me. And after she died, I guess I just… expected you to do the same.
I told myself you owed me because you were stronger. More stable. Better at life.”
The words were harsh—but true.
“You announced you were moving into my house,” I said.
“You humiliated me in my own home.”
Tears slid down her face. “I know. And when you stopped me, I told everyone you were cruel because I couldn’t face the truth—that I had become someone who uses people.”
I let the silence sit.
Then she said something I never thought I’d hear.
“I’m sorry, Kate. Not because I need somewhere to stay. Michael moved us into his cousin’s basement for now.
Not because I need money. I don’t want anything from you. I’m sorry because I treated your love like an unlimited resource—and it wasn’t love anymore the way I was using it.
It was theft.”
I believed her because of what came next.
“You don’t have to forgive me.”
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