Chapter 3: Gaslighted By Family

She said it so matter-of-factly. Like it was just another day.

“Why didn’t you tell Mom?”

I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

Emily thought for a bit before answering, “Sorry, Mom, I forgot...”

She looked away, her cheeks turning pink. I knew then that it wasn’t forgetfulness. Someone had told her not to tell me.

I don’t think she forgot. David probably told her not to mention Rachel in front of me.

The thought made me sick. How many other secrets had they kept?

Before today, I’d never thought to ask Emily if there were any other women close to David.

I’d trusted him, trusted our family. God, I felt like such a fool.

I never thought he’d cheat, and I didn’t want to stain my daughter’s heart.

I’d always tried to protect her, to keep the ugliness of the world at bay. Now it was crashing in, no matter how hard I tried to hold the door shut.

Something I could’ve discovered with a single question—I’d been played for a fool for so long.

I felt like a joke.

The realization stung worse than anything. I’d been so careful. So trusting. And it had all been for nothing.

When I started the car, I realized my hands were shaking.

I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The dashboard lights blurred through my tears.

My eyes blurred with tears.

I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision. I didn’t want Emily to see me cry, but I couldn’t help it. The world outside the windshield shimmered, unreal.

Emily probably didn’t want to leave her dad. She sat in the back seat, voice barely above a whisper. “Mom, are we really leaving now? I miss Dad...”

Her voice was so small, so sad. I wanted to turn around, to hold her, but I couldn’t trust myself not to fall apart.

I couldn’t say a word.

I swallowed hard, willing myself to stay strong. The words just wouldn’t come.

There was too much stuck in my throat. All my emotions pressed down inside.

I stared straight ahead, biting my lip until I tasted blood. I couldn’t let myself break down. Not yet.

I was afraid that if I spoke, I’d just start sobbing.

I took a shaky breath, counting to ten in my head. It didn’t help.

At that moment, David appeared in front of the car, standing there so I couldn’t drive forward.

He stood in the headlights, arms crossed. Refusing to move.

He mouthed for me to get out of the car.

He didn’t say a word, just pointed to the sidewalk, then back at me. I shook my head, gripping the wheel tighter.

Emily spoke again: “Mom, Dad’s here. Can we not leave?”

Her voice cracked, and I heard the hope in it. I wanted to give her what she wanted, but I couldn’t.

He knew our daughter didn’t understand what was going on, but he still deliberately blocked the car.

It was a power play, plain and simple. He wanted me to be the one who gave in. Make me look unreasonable in front of Emily.

If I insisted on leaving now, in Emily’s eyes, I’d be the one throwing a tantrum.

He was the one who cheated, but he still wanted to make me look like the bad guy.

The injustice of it made my blood boil. I stared him down. Refused to budge.

I lowered my head, hands trembling as I typed two words on my phone and sent them to David: “Get lost!”

My fingers flew over the screen, the words harsher than anything I’d ever said to him before. I hit send, then dropped the phone in my lap.

David still refused to move. After a few minutes of stalemate, I suddenly saw in the rearview mirror that our daughter was wiping away tears.

The sight broke me. Her little shoulders shook, her face crumpled in silent sobs. I wanted to scream at David. Beg him to let us go.

She missed her dad. She didn’t want to leave.

Her loyalty was so pure. So undeserved. I felt like I was failing her, no matter what I did.

My heart ached even more.

The pain was a physical thing, a weight pressing down on my chest. I could barely breathe.

Since Emily was little, she hadn’t spent much time with David.

He’d always been busy, always gone. I’d tried to fill the gaps, to make sure she never felt his absence, but it was never enough.

She loved her dad so much, not just because of blood, but because I always told her how wonderful he was. It became a deep memory for her.

I’d spun stories about him, made excuses for him, painted him as a hero. I wanted her to have someone to look up to, even if it wasn’t real.

But is her dad really that great? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

When her mom broke her leg and could only get around on crutches, he was off on a trip with another woman.

The memory burned. I’d struggled to make dinner, to bathe Emily, to keep the house running, all while he was off hiking with Rachel.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I collapsed onto the steering wheel and sobbed. Uncontrollably.

The dam broke. I shook with the force of it, my tears soaking the sleeves of my shirt. Emily reached forward, patting my shoulder, her own sobs mingling with mine.

Seeing this, David rushed over and opened the car door.

He crouched down beside me, face pale. Tried to touch my arm. I jerked away.

“You can’t drive right now. Come back with me first.”

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I shook my head, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

I refused.

I couldn’t go back, not after everything. The thought of setting foot in that apartment made my skin crawl.

No matter what, I wasn’t stepping foot in his place again.

There were probably traces of Rachel everywhere.

Her perfume on the pillows, her hair in the shower drain, her laughter echoing in the halls. I couldn’t bear it.

They’d cuddled on the sofa, laughed together in the kitchen, gotten close in the bedroom... I couldn’t take it.

I saw it all in my mind’s eye. Each image sharper than the last. I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to block it out.

All sorts of sordid images flashed through my mind, trapping me, making it hard to breathe.

I gasped for air, my chest tight. I wanted to run, to hide, but there was nowhere left to go.

In the end, David and I compromised. I didn’t go home, and he didn’t force me to his place.

We found a shabby little motel off the highway, the kind with flickering neon lights and scratchy sheets. It wasn’t home. But it was safe.

We booked a family room at a local motel. I slept with our daughter; he slept alone.

Emily curled up beside me, her tiny hand wrapped around mine. I listened to her breathing, steady and slow, and tried to let it calm me.

After Emily fell asleep, David wanted to talk. I refused.

He knocked quietly on the connecting door, his voice muffled. I pretended to be asleep, willing him to go away.

I didn’t want to hear any more of his lies.

I’d heard enough. There was nothing left to say.

I just wanted the night to be over. So I could leave.

I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks, listening to the distant hum of traffic. The hours crawled by.

I wasn’t familiar with this town. If something happened, I wouldn’t even know who to call.

I clutched my phone, scrolling through my contacts, wondering who would answer if I called. The loneliness pressed in on me, heavy and cold.

But I didn’t expect that when I woke up the next morning, both David’s parents and mine would be there.