The way he said her married name felt cold. Hannah swallowed the unease.
Soft dragging footsteps echoed. Ava appeared in the doorway in her school uniform, braids loose, face pale.
“Good morning, sweetheart!” Hannah said brightly. “Look what Mommy made you!”
The word froze the child.
Ava stared at the pancakes like they were poison, then looked desperately toward her father, who was already seated.
Without a word, she edged along the wall and sat as far from Hannah as possible.
“Come here, let me fix your hair,” Hannah said gently, reaching out.
“NO!”
The scream was sharp and raw. Ava flung herself backward, chair scraping loudly as she covered her head, shaking.
Hannah froze, stunned.
Michael lowered his phone slowly.
“Hannah,” he said calmly, terrifyingly calm. “I told you not to be so aggressive. You frightened her.”
“I didn’t touch her,” Hannah whispered. “I just wanted to help.”
Ava didn’t respond. Her fork rattled against the plate.
Breakfast ended in silence. When it was time to leave, the humiliation deepened.
On the driveway, the driver waited. Hannah knelt beside Ava.
“Have a good day, sweetheart. I left you a note in your lunchbox.”
Ava stood stiff beside her father.