mattered most is settled in me.

He was not misunderstood.

She was not confused.

I was not crazy.

The thing I saw was the thing that happened.

Some nights I still think about the absurd details first.

The red heels.

The pearl earring.

The brass key against my palm.

The way the water stopped inside the walls after I turned the valve.

The tiny pause between Michael hearing her voice and understanding why it was coming from behind my bathroom door.

People keep asking whether I regret doing it that way.

Locking the door.

Cutting the water.

Making the call.

I don’t.

I regret every earlier moment when I swallowed my own certainty to keep a marriage looking neat from the sidewalk.

That ten-second clip and Michael’s hallway video are backed up in three places now.

Teresa told me not to delete anything.

I won’t.

Not because I enjoy what they show, but because evidence is a strange kind of peace when you’ve been told for too long that your eyes are unreliable.

The house is quieter now.

Not safe exactly.

Not healed.

Just honest.

Would you play the hallway video or stay quiet?