My sister-in-law mistakenly sent me a photo that was meant for my husband—I smiled, saved it, and waited exactly six months.

The bathroom mirror. Can’t wait for Friday.

Brooke looked at me. Then at the photo. Then back at me.

Under the frame lay the folder. Brooke opened it with trembling hands.

Hotel receipts. The unpaid loan. The transfer of my father’s inheritance.

Each page made her hands shake a little harder.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered.

“I understand more than continue reading …