He looked at me first, then at Ava, then back at me.
“Forgot my phone,” he said.
Neither of us spoke.
He crossed to the kitchen counter, picked up his phone, and stood there for a moment too long.
His eyes moved to the broken glass I hadn’t yet cleaned from the floor.
“Everything okay?”
“I dropped something,” I said.
My voice came out steadier than I deserved.
He looked at Ava again.
Something passed across his face — not concern.
Something harder than that.
“You’ve been crying,” he said to her.
“Anniversary,” Ava said quietly.
“I always get like this.”
A beat.
Then Daniel nodded, slid his phone into his pocket, and walked back toward the door.
“I’ll be home by six,” he said.
He didn’t kiss me goodbye.
He hadn’t in years, but I only noticed it in that moment.
The truck backed out of the driveway.
