Somehow, that made it worse.
Claire stood barefoot on the cold kitchen tile, her two-month-old son sleeping against her shoulder. The dining table was already set for six. Dinner waited on the stove. She had cooked because Ryan’s parents were coming early, and in the Calloway family, effort was never praised — only expected. Family
Ryan walked in with his tie loose and his phone glowing in his hand.
He did not look at the baby.
He did not look at her.
He looked at the table first, scanning it like his mother did, searching for flaws. FamilyTherapy Services
“You’re late,” Claire said quietly.
Ryan exhaled. His face looked tired, but not from work. It looked rehearsed.
Then he said one word.
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