Every night after dinner, he kissed my forehead as I announced I was going home. Then, he let me walk off. Sometimes, I saw him go back into his house, but a few times that week, he got in his car and drove away. I’d watched for his headlights every night. I didn’t see them until much later, and my heart crumbled at the thought of him with other women, women who probably didn’t come with the baggage I did. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have the right to.
