Then she met Him.
His name was Zachary. But he went by Zach. Of course, he did.
He was polished. Clean-cut. Firm handshakes and conservative shoes. He had a good job. Great teeth. He was good at not asking any real questions. The kind of man who said ‘image’ when talking about babies and ‘traditional’ like it was a compliment instead of a red flag.
They got married fast.
I wore a blue dress to the wedding and smiled through it, even though no one asked me how I felt. Zach never once asked me about my life; he only offered a handshake and a backhanded compliment or two.
“It’s amazing Claire turned out so well, given… you know.”
As if I hadn’t been the reason she turned out at all.
I should have seen it coming.
