The day of my dad’s funeral, everything changed. I was sitting in the back of the church, clutching my mother’s hand, when a woman with red hair and tear-streaked cheeks approached the casket. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I thought we had more time.” My heart dropped. More time? Who was she? The air in the room thickened, and suddenly, his secrets felt like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.
Dad was always the rock in our family. The one who’d barbecue in the backyard during summer while…