I walked out of the house. I left the photo on the coffee table. I don’t know if I can ever go back in there. I don’t know if I can ever look at her the same way again.

I’m sitting in my car now, in the driveway, and for the first time in my life, I have no idea who I am.

I just keep thinking about the nurse. She was so calm when she told me about the error. She had no idea what she had actually done. She thought she was just fixing a paperwork issue. She was handing me the key to a truth that was never meant to be unlocked.

My phone buzzed. It was Sarah. “My mother is asking about you,” she said. “She said she knows you.” I didn’t answer. I put the car in gear. I looked at the house one last time. It looked exactly the same as it had that morning. Everything was the same. But everything was gone.