I didn't know how much time passed before a cacophony of voices dragged me back. The front door banged open.
My mother. My younger sister.
"Where is your brother? The lights are on, but the place is silent."
"Hurry up. Pack up all that jinx's trash and throw it out. Keeping a dead person's things is bad luck."
"I need to get Vivi moved in ASAP. Then I can finally hold a grandson. That useless woman—married four years and couldn't pop out a son or a daughter. Good riddance. At least now we have space."
They barged into the master bedroom. My sister yelped when she spotted me on the floor.
"Brother? You're home? You... you didn't hear anything, did you?"
She recovered fast, sliding on a mask of concern. "Sister-in-law is gone, so Mom and I came to help you tidy up. We were afraid seeing her things would upset you. Don't misunderstand."
I looked at them—the two women who were supposed to be my family. Guilt flushed their faces, but their eyes held no remorse.
A cold realization settled into my gut.
*So this is how they treated Amy when I wasn't around.*
During our four years of marriage, Amy had asked—begged—to live separately from them.
And what did I do?