April 11, 1944
I wrote a letter to Daisy today. I told her the truth about John and his gambling. Expressed how utterly heartbroken I am over my husband’s actions.
I didn’t hold back with her, and a large part of me dreads her response. Partly because I know what it will be. It’s the same thing she has said many times throughout the years we’ve been friends.
“You settled for him.”
I also told her that I miss when we were young girls, always up to no good and the best of friends. Back then, our biggest stress was homework and quizzes. And while Daisy didn’t have the best homelife like me, we were able to escape our realities with each other.
Daisy is still my best friend, and though she lives a few hours away now, I tell her everything.
Except about my phantom.
It’s the first time I’ve kept a secret from her, and I feel awful about it. Not only because I feel like I’m lying to her for the first time, but rather, if this man ends up hurting me, I will have made it easy for him to get away with it.
I’m such a fool.