Lena.
The day settled into a dangerous kind of normal.
Helen remained brighter, more affectionate, more present in her marriage than she had been at any point since the accident. The wedding memory had given her a foundation, and the outing with Julian had built on it. She touched him easily now—fingers brushing his sleeve when she passed, a hand on his shoulder when she asked a question, a quick kiss at the temple when he made a dry comment about the photo albums. Julian received every gesture without hesitation. From the outside, the recovery of their relationship looked clean and hopeful.
Lena knew better.
She felt the second current every time Julian’s eyes found hers across a room. The kitchen confrontation from that morning had not faded. If anything, the returned knowledge sat m
