The two of them held each other’s gaze for half a second.
It was enough.
Even then, with their secret opened on the table, they checked each other before speaking.
Claire saw it too.
Mark began first.
“It happened once.”
Ellen closed her eyes.
Claire gave a small nod, as if recording the answer in her mind.
“Once in Savannah?”
“Yes.”
“The recording says you came here while I was working.”
Mark’s jaw tightened.
“We talked.
That was all.”
“Then why did you say Thursday was gone when I changed shifts?”
He looked toward the tablet.
Ellen’s voice cracked.
“Claire, it began as talking.
I was lonely.
Your father and I had become—”
I interrupted her.
“Do not make our marriage responsible for what you did to hers.”
She stared at me as though I had struck the table.
For decades, I had softened her worst moments.
I had translated her anger, excused her sharpness, and carried silences so the children would not have to.
That night, I refused to carry another one.
Ellen’s eyes filled with tears.
“I never meant to hurt anyone.”
Claire’s expression changed then.
Not into rage, but into something colder.
“You discussed my work schedule.”
Neither answered.
“You joked that I wouldn’t notice because I was busy taking care of everyone.”
Mark looked at Ellen.
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You typed it exactly like that.”
“I was frustrated.”
“With me?” Claire asked.
“For trusting you?”
Mark pushed his chair back.
“This is turning into a trial.”
Bill spoke for the first time since the confrontation began.
“No.
In a trial, you would have been smart enough to stop talking.”
Mark glared at him.
“You’re taking her side over your own son?”
“I’m taking the side of the person you lied to.”
Mark stood.
Claire remained seated.
“Your suitcase is in the garage.
I packed enough for a week.
You are not sleeping here tonight.”
His face hardened.
“This is my house too.”
“I know.
That’s why I spoke to a lawyer before this dinner.”
