Daniel took a cautious step forward.
“Mom—”
“Stay out of this.”
He stopped immediately.
Regret flashed across her face, but only briefly.
The room had become too small. Too warm. Clara could barely breathe.
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
“Clara!” Michael called after her.
But she kept moving.
Down the hallway.
Into the kitchen.
Past the groceries still sitting untouched on the table.
The vegetables she had chosen carefully that morning suddenly looked absurd.
She gripped the edge of the counter hard enough for her knuckles to whiten.
Behind her, soft footsteps approached.
Not Michael.
Daniel.
“I know you’re angry,” he said quietly.
Clara laughed bitterly.
“Angry?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
She turned toward him sharply.
“You could have called me.”
“She begged me not to.”
“And that mattered more than I did?”
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