There were years when Brad believed the family was happy because nobody complained loudly enough.
There were years when Janet stopped complaining because experience suggested it only created more work.
Silence is frequently mistaken for peace. It is not.
Sometimes it is simply fatigue or indifference to anyone elseโs suffering besides your own.
One autumn evening Brad looked across the living room and realised he knew astonishingly little about the woman he said he loved for decades.
He knew she preferred tea with oat milk. He knew she organised things by invisible rules.
But he did not know what frightened her most.
He did not know which compliment she secretly wished someone would give her or what she wanted if no one needed anything from her.
The discovery unsettled him. Not because she had hidden herself.
Because she had been visible the entire time. He simply had not looked.
At her, anyway. Brad was always looking.
