Leah
Two days after Jacob apologized, Ruth came to my apartment.
She did not call first. Of course she did not. Ruth had always treated other people’s doors like a temporary inconvenience.
I saw her through the peephole in a cream coat, posture straight, hair smooth, one hand curled around the handle of an expensive handbag. The same woman she had always been, except no one inside my home belonged to her anymore.
I opened the door but did not step aside.
“Leah,” she said. “I came to see how you are.”
“No, you didn’t.”
The words stopped her.
I kept my good hand on the edge of the door. “You came because Edward will not let you use his hospital room, Daniel told you no, and no one will bring Bella to you.”
Her mouth thinned. “Bella is my granddaughter.”
“Bella is my daughter.”
Tha
