Harper had cried herself to sleep in my bed, curled into me like she used to when she was little, her pillow damp and her breathing uneven even in sleep.
I noticed the calluses on her fingers when I brushed her hair aside, small marks from hours of sewing that now felt like proof of something that had been taken from her unfairly.
I could not save that machine anymore, but I could restore something else that had been broken, and I knew exactly what that was.
Balance.
The next morning, I called Gregory.
“We need to talk,” I said the moment he answered.
He sighed immediately, already defensive. “Evelyn, Melissa might have gone a little far, but…”
“But you stood there,” I cut him off, my voice steady but cold. “And now you’re both going to understand what that felt like.”
“Don’t turn this into something bigger than it is,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone.
“Oh, it’s already big,” I replied, and hung up before he could say anything else.
That weekend, I showed up at their house unannounced while they were sitting by the pool again, enjoying brunch like nothing had ever happened.