I turned to my husband.
He just stood there, the shovel still in his hand.
Robert looked down at the ground for a second before he said anything.
“We never went to Disneyland,” he said.
The words came out flat. No buildup. No softening.
I stared at him.
I stood up slowly.
“I just needed you to think we were far away,” Robert added, quieter now.
“Why?”
He let out a breath as if he’d been holding it in for weeks.
“Babe, I lost my job a few months ago.”
That stopped everything.
I gasped.
“A few months? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was trying to fix it,” he said quickly. “I thought I’d figure out something else before it became a problem.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s already a problem,” I said, my voice rising despite myself.
“I know.”
“Do you?” I asked. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been pretending everything’s fine while moving our life behind my back!”
He didn’t argue with that.
“I’ve been bringing things here slowly in boxes,” Robert admitted. “Stuff we wouldn’t miss right away.”
Ava shifted beside me, quiet now, listening.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
“It’s already a problem.”
I opened the text Robert had sent that morning.
I looked at the Disneyland photo again, but zoomed in this time.
My stomach dropped when I noticed that Ava’s hair was shorter.
And the shirt she was wearing, she hadn’t fit into in months!
I lowered the phone slowly and looked at Robert.
“You sent me an old photo.”
He didn’t deny it.
I let out a breath.
“What was your plan? Seriously. Walk me through it.”
I noticed that Ava’s hair was shorter.
My husband rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I thought… maybe I’d get everything ready here first.”
“And then what? You just bring us out here one day and tell us we’re not going back?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“That was part of it.”
“You were going to make that decision for us?”
“I wasn’t trying to — .”
“To what?” I cut in. “Lie? Because that’s exactly what you did.”
“Maybe I’d get everything ready.”
“I was trying to keep us afloat,” Robert said, a little sharper now. “We’re behind on payments. I didn’t want to make you panic until I had something solid. I thought I could fix it first.”
He looked down again.
“With what?” I asked. “What was the end of that plan?”
He shook his head.
“I didn’t get that far.”
“Yeah,” I said, releasing a short, humorless breath. “I can see that.”
Then something clicked.
I glanced back at the hole.
“I was trying to keep us afloat.”
“You still haven’t told me what that is,” I said.
He stiffened slightly.
“It’s nothing important.”
“Don’t,” I said. “We’re not doing that again.”
He sighed.
“It’s just storage. For things I couldn’t explain yet.”
I stepped past him and walked straight to the edge of the hole.
“Dig it up,” I said.
“What?”
“Dig it up.”
“We’re not doing that again.”
“It’s just supplies. You don’t need to — .”
“Do it, or I swear, I’m done.”
The words came out before I could soften them.
He looked at me, searching my face to see if I meant it.
After a few seconds, he nodded.
