Chapter 9 - I Thought Locking the Cabinet Meant the Argument Was Over
The cabinet lock had been my idea.
After the loose magnet incident years earlier, I told Ethan:
“These need to leave the house.”
He said:
“No.”
“Why?”
“They’re in my desk.”
“We have a toddler.”
“So?”
“So they can kill her.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
“Get rid of them.”
He refused because they had been:
a gift from his father,
part desk toy,
part sentimental object.
His father died when Ethan was twenty-six.
That mattered emotionally.
I compromised.
Lock them.
Not:
throw away.
Then we added:
batteries,
sharp craft tools,
other small hazards
to the same cabinet.
I felt:
better.
System.
Key.
Control.
Years passed.
Chloe grew.
I stopped thinking:
about it.
Then six months before the surgery, I found the cabinet door:
unlocked.
I asked Ethan.
He said:
“I got tape.”
“Where’s the key?”
“Probably in it.”
“No.”
“The key stays with me.”
He laughed.
“Rachel, I can open a cabinet in my own house.”
“How?”
He held up:
a second key.
I remember staring.
“You copied it?”
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
“Because this whole setup is ridiculous.”
That was the moment.
I knew.
Not that he would leave magnets out.
But that he had intentionally bypassed the safety system because he resented:
my authority
over it.
We fought.
Then dinner.
Then bedtime.
Then life.
I did not change:
the lock.
May you like
That became important later.
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