Page 217 of This Life of Mine

“And Cole did the same thing. Not all the time. Not at first.” A bitter breath slips out. “But enough.”

I fixate on her, eyes burning.

“He’d make my feelings feel… small. Inconvenient. Like they didn’t matter as much as his. Like I was overreacting. Or misunderstanding. Or remembering things wrong.”

My voice cracks.

“And maybe that’s it,” I whisper. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t see it.”

She leans forward slightly, resting her forearms on her knees.

“Go on,” she says gently.

“Two different people,” I say, “telling me the same thing.”

I press my palm flat against my chest.

“That what I felt wasn’t real. That what I remembered wasn’t accurate. That I was too much.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them come down.

“So eventually,” I murmur, “I started to believe them.”

The room is quiet for a considerable time.

Then Silvia speaks.

“That wasn’t coincidence,” she says calmly. “And it wasn’t weakness.”

I continue to watch her speak.

“When you grow up being told your reality is wrong, your nervous system learns to doubt itself,” she continues. “Not once—but repeatedly.”

She gestures gently between us.

“Peter taught you early that your truth would be challenged. That standing up for yourself would be met with dismissal or punishment.”

My chest tightens.

“So when Cole came along,” she says, “your brain didn’t register his behavior as new danger. It registered it asfamiliar.”

Tears begin to pool at the edges.

“Familiar feels safe,” she adds softly. “Even when it isn’t.”

A tear slips free.

“You didn’t miss the signs because you weren’t paying attention,” she says. “You missed them because you weretrainedto.”

I wipe at my cheek. The tears are rushing now.

“And because they both used the same tools,” she continues. “Not only anger and control—but erosion.”

I frown slightly.

“They eroded your trust in yourself,” she says. “Little by little. Until questioning your own feelings felt normal.”

The words land heavy—but steady.