Abraham didn't come home until the next morning.

I was sitting on the couch, rubbing my knee, when I heard the lock turn.

He set breakfast on the table, came over, and pressed a hand to my forehead.

"Sorry. It poured again last night, and her stomach was bothering her. I got worried, so I stayed."

"You didn't run a fever last night, did you?"

I shook my head.

His hand slid down my arm and paused when it reached my knee.

"How did it swell up like this?"

"Slipped again while I was walking. Took a fall."

Abraham crouched down, found the medicated oil, and rubbed it on for me.

"Why didn't you call me?"

I didn't answer. He let out a small scoff.

"I knew it. Still sulking? Don't hold on to every little thing."

I didn't argue. But if I had called, would he have come home?

Pamela's stomach was only a little upset, and he'd kept watch at her place all night.

Now I'd taken a fall, and to him it probably meant nothing.

After all, I'd fallen plenty of times before, and he'd never said much then either.

Once he'd finished with the oil, he picked up the cane and looked it over.

"You're right, it needs replacing. When you get back from Grandma's, I'll buy you a new one."

He'd said that many times before, too.

I didn't call him on it. I just made a small sound of agreement.

After breakfast, Abraham called a car for me.

He put my luggage in the trunk, helped me into the seat, and buckled my seatbelt with his own hands.

"Message me when you get to Grandma's. Don't stay too long."

"If you're not back in a week, I'll come get you myself."

He said it so certainly, as if I were only throwing a tantrum.

"You're not seeing me off?"

"I've got something to take care of soon. Just message me when you arrive."

The door shut, and his footsteps faded away.

"Sir, not the station. Take me to the airport, please."

The drive was long.

At the airport, I got out with my cane.

I walked fast, felt a little warm, and pulled off my jacket.

Faintly, I caught people murmuring nearby.

"Doesn't she know? Didn't anyone at home remind her?"

At first I didn't pay attention.

Then a little girl ran up beside me, tipped her face up, and asked,

"Miss, why did you wear a torn dress out?"

I froze, then smiled and explained.

"It isn't torn, sweetie. It's my denim dress."

"But there's a big hole on the back. It's all black, like it got burned."

Her mother quickly pulled her back.

"I'm sorry. Children don't know when to hold their tongue."

But I called out to her.

"Could you tell me, please, where the hole is?"

The woman was quiet for a moment.

"It's on the back of the skirt. The edges are scorched. It doesn't look like the design was meant that way."

I gripped my cane tighter.

A few months ago, Pamela had come over to visit.

She'd run her hand over my denim dress and said with a smile,

"This blue is so pretty. It really suits you."

She'd also said her own dress had gotten ruined by accident, singed with a curling iron.

A few days later, Abraham opened my closet and, all secretive, took one of my dresses.

"Pam's clothes aren't dry yet. She'll just borrow yours for a day."

The next day, he put the dress back.

The fabric felt about the same, so I assumed it was still mine.

So he'd given my good dress to Pamela and put her scorched one back in my closet.

Because he knew I couldn't see.

The little girl's mother took my jacket and tied it around my waist.

"Wear your own jacket like this, over it. It'll cover the hole."

"You're out on your own. Isn't there anyone at home to check your clothes for you?"

I touched the fabric at my waist.

There was someone who checked. He just never told me.

My phone buzzed several more times. A voice message from Abraham.

"Are you at the station yet?"

"Don't forget the greens. Pam likes them."

I only replied: "I'm here."

He didn't know.

Where I'd arrived wasn't the station. It was the airport.

I was afraid Abraham would insist on driving me to the station, so I told him my flight left three hours earlier than it did.

Once he was gone, I could switch to a cab and go to the airport instead.

But I'd overthought it.

So now there were still more than four hours until the plane took off.

When I checked my luggage, the attendant took my bag from me.

My cane slid across the polished floor, then jerked sideways.

She caught me quickly.

"The tip of your cane is worn completely smooth. It's dangerous to keep using it like this. Why didn't you replace it?"

I answered without thinking.

"My boyfriend said he'd get me a new one when I got back."

The attendant found a rubber anti-slip pad and crouched down to fix it onto the tip for me.

It took her only a few minutes.

Something Abraham had dragged out for months was solved by a stranger.

An hour before takeoff, according to the schedule I'd given Abraham, I should already have been home.

He called.

"You there yet? Whatever you do, don't forget the greens!"

"Mm."

His end of the line was lively.

There was the clink of bowls and chopsticks.

A middle-aged woman called out warmly.

"Abraham, come sit next to Pam."

"She said her stomach's been hurting since yesterday. Fix her something light."

A man laughed.

"You're at Uncle's house now, no need to stand on ceremony. We're all family from here on."

Pamela cut in, her voice sweet.

"Dad, don't say things like that."

Abraham seemed to move away a little.

"Why is it so quiet on your end?"

"You didn't see me off today because you were in a hurry to go meet Pamela's parents?"

He paused.

"Her aunt and uncle hardly ever come to town, and they asked me to eat with them. Didn't I already call you a cab?"

As if calling me a cab counted as seeing me off himself.

"This dress I'm wearing. It's the one Pamela burned with her curling iron, isn't it?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

Abraham's voice turned stiff.

"That was ages ago. Why are you suddenly bringing it up?"

"So it's true?"

"Pam's parents showed up out of nowhere that day, and your dress was about the same as hers, so I let her wear yours first."

I gripped the phone.

"And then you put the one she'd burned back in my closet?"

"It's not like I threw your stuff away," Abraham said, growing impatient. "It's just a little hole in the back, that's all."

"You've got a jacket on today anyway. Just cover it up."

So he'd seen it all along.

When he helped me into the car, when he buckled my seatbelt, he knew there was a scorched hole in the back of my dress.

And he didn't say a single word to warn me.

My voice rose before I could stop it.

"Pamela can't meet her parents in a burned dress, so you gave her mine."

"My cane's been broken for months and you told me to make do. But her table leg gets loose and you go out in the rain to fix it."

"Now her parents are here, and you don't even have time to take me to the station."

"Abraham, why is it that everything can just be 'good enough' when it comes to me?"

He was silent for a moment.

When he spoke again, his voice was full of weary patience.

"Don't be difficult. You really haven't been yourself lately."

"You heard it wrong that night. How many more times do I have to explain?"

On the other end, Pamela's mother called to him again.

"Abraham, the fish Pam put on your plate is getting cold."

Her father laughed too.

"Stop being on the phone all night. This is a family dinner."

A family dinner.

"Abraham, whose boyfriend are you, exactly?"

His voice dropped low.

"Here we go again. I found you a job, I picked you up after work, I've taken care of you for years."

"Haven't I been good enough to you?"

But that goodness was so cheap, so filthy.

It even came laced with tricking me into taking the clients Pamela didn't want, tricking me into using my blindness to pull in business.

Was that kind of goodness really love?

What Pamela got was probably the favoritism he'd truly wanted to give all along.

"Let's break up."

Abraham actually laughed.

"Don't try to scare me with a breakup. You need someone to tell you when your dress is torn. What would you even do without me?"

"Go home, let your grandmother spoil you for a few days. I'll come get you in a week."

He was as certain as if he were soothing a child throwing a tantrum.

I didn't explain any further.

"Don't bother coming."

"Fine, but remember to bring the greens."

I hung up.

Soon an attendant came to take me to board.

Seeing I was blind, she came over and guided me along.

Every few steps, she warned me ahead of time.

"There's a threshold coming up, careful."

"Seats on your left, take it slow."

Even a stranger treated me this way, and Abraham had never once told me to be careful.

Before the cabin doors closed, Abraham sent another voice message.

"See you in a week."

I turned off my phone.

He thought I was only going back to my grandmother's to sulk for a few days.

But as the plane left the ground, I was flying to Northgate.

We would never see each other again.