Maria:
“Mom, what is it about Daniel that you don’t already know?”
I say it before I even sit down, my bag still hanging off my shoulder like I might leave again if this goes left. The strap digs into my skin, a small anchor.
She doesn’t answer immediately. She just looks at me, measured, like she’s deciding how serious this conversation is about to be.
That’s never a good sign.
I drop my bag on the chair and finally sit, smoothing my dress down without really thinking about it. The fabric whispers against my legs. The room still feels like mine, familiar, quiet, but something about the way she’s standing makes it feel smaller. The lamp on the side table casts a warm pool of light across the floor between us.
“We saw the headlines,” she says.
Of course.
I nod once. “So did everyone
