But there he was, standing frozen in the doorway, holding a paper bag and a bouquet of daisies, his eyes moving slowly from the water flooding the kitchen floor, to the empty bucket, to his mother standing dry and untouched, and finally to me—soaked, shaking, curled around my belly on the tile.
The bag slipped from his hand. The flowers followed.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, and something in his voice made Evelyn straighten instantly.
“She slipped,” Evelyn said quickly, stepping forward with practiced concern. “She’s been emotional all day. I tried to help her up—”
“She threw water on me,” I said, my voice hoarse but steady enough to cut through the lie. “Ice water. On purpose.”
Daniel’s gaze snapped to his mother. “Mom?”
Evelyn scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. She was overheating and—”
“I heard you,” Daniel said.
Silence crashed down between us.
“I came in early,” he continued, his jaw tightening. “I stood in the hall because I heard voices. I heard everything.”
