I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Diane Mercer had a way of making her presence known without raising her voice. She was the head of the school’s parent committee, the kind of woman who organized events down to the smallest detail and expected acknowledgment for it. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her dress immaculate, her posture perfect in a way that suggested effort rather than ease.
She stopped just beside us, her gaze dropping first to Lily, then to me.
“Oh,” she said, her tone carefully arranged somewhere between surprise and something that pretended to be concern. “I didn’t realize you’d be attending.”
I stood slowly, meeting her eyes. “We got the invitation like everyone else.”
“Of course,” she replied, taking a small sip from the glass she held—sparkling water, probably, though the setting made it feel out of place regardless. “I just thought, given the circumstances…”
“What circumstances?” I asked, though I knew exactly what she meant.
Her smile didn’t falter, but it didn’t warm either. “Events like this are structured around a certain dynamic,” she said. “A father and a daughter. It can be… difficult for children who don’t quite fit that mold.”
I felt Lily shift closer to me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my sleeve.
“She fits just fine,” I said, my voice quieter now, which somehow made it sharper.
