Three times.
Slow, heavy knocks.
Michael opened his eyes.
From the expression on his face, I knew he already knew who was standing outside.
“Don’t open it,” he whispered.
But I was already walking toward the door.
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The moment I opened the door, I froze.
My mother was standing outside.
Linda was holding an old, yellowed envelope. Her eyes were red, and her lips were trembling so badly that she could barely speak.
“Mom? What are you doing here?”
She looked over my shoulder at Michael.
“He called me,” she said. “He said we couldn’t stay silent anymore.”
“Silent about what?”
My mother stepped inside, but she didn’t hug me. She sat down on the couch and placed the envelope on the table.
Michael closed the door.
“Emily,” he said, “please listen to everything before you say anything.”
“No. Both of you are going to tell me what’s happening right now.”