PART ONE
Chapter Ten: The Lies Settle In
By morning, the whispers had begun to solidify.
Margret noticed it first at the corner store. The cashier's polite smile was gone, replaced by hesitation and brief, measured glances. She caught snippets of conversation: "Did you hear?" "It's true, isn't it?" The voices were low, but the weight behind them was unmistakable.
Her heart sank. David's words had left the house and entered the world, and now the world had accepted them as truth.
Margret returned home, feeling the walls close in around her. Even the familiar furniture seemed different—stiffer, accusing. The framed family photo on the mantle, once a symbol of warmth, now seemed like a lie frozen in glass.
David did not speak that morning. He moved through the house efficiently, ignoring both Margret and Lucia, leaving her alone with the knowledge that every corner of their lives had been tainted.
She tried to hold herself together for Lucia. At breakfast, she served the food quietly, her hands shaking slightly. Lucia ate in silence, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed.
"Are people talking about us?" Lucia asked finally, her voice hesitant.
Margret forced a calm smile. "Some people are, yes. But that doesn't matter. What matters is what we know is true."
Lucia's small face scrunched in worry. "But what if they believe him?"
Margret pressed a hand to her daughter's shoulder. "Then we'll just have to be stronger. That's all we can do."
It was a hollow reassurance, even to herself.
By the afternoon, the truth—or rather, the lies—had spread further. A neighbor approached cautiously while Margret was hanging laundry.
"I… I heard about the test," the woman said quietly, lowering her voice. "I'm so sorry…"
Margret froze, searching for a trace of genuine concern in the woman's eyes. There was none. Only judgment, subtle but sharp.
"I… thank you," Margret said softly. She walked away before the woman could respond further, her chest tightening with humiliation.
Back inside, Margret felt the walls closing tighter. David's accusations had done more than hurt her—they had isolated her. Slowly, methodically, he was shaping everyone's perception, leaving her alone in her home, surrounded by the suffocating silence of mistrust.
Even her friends had started to drift away. Calls went unanswered. Invitations stopped coming. Margret didn't blame them. David's manipulation was subtle, but effective. She could feel the truth slipping further from her grasp, replaced by the narrative he had crafted.
That night, she sat in the dim light of the living room, staring at the floor, feeling every weight of accusation, fear, and shame pressing down.
Lucia joined her quietly, slipping into her lap. "Mama… why doesn't Daddy look at us anymore?"
Margret held her daughter tightly. "Because he's scared," she whispered. "Scared of the truth. But we're not scared. We have each other, and that's what matters."
Lucia rested her head on Margret's shoulder, and for a brief moment, Margret felt the smallest spark of solace. But it was fleeting.
The lies had settled in, and with them, fear. Fear of the world outside, fear of David's wrath, fear of what the future might hold. The house was no longer a sanctuary. It was a battlefield, and she and her daughter were its only defenders.
Margret knew she could not fight David openly. Not yet. Not when his influence stretched so far. She had to be careful, strategic, silent. Every step she took, every word she spoke, had to be measured.
She thought of the doctor's words again. Treatment. Manageable. But what use was treatment if the mind and soul were under siege? If the world itself had already condemned her?
Her hands clenched into fists. The lies would not destroy her. They could try. They could whisper, point, accuse. But Margret knew the truth—she had never betrayed her daughter, never betrayed herself, never betrayed the life she had fought to build.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath the fear and shame, she began to plan. Not recklessly, not in panic—but carefully. Every detail, every option, every step was a seed of survival.
Because the lies had settled in.
But Margret's resolve had settled, too.
And the next move would be hers.