“Slowly,” Paige said warmly. “Circles help clean better. You are doing great.”
Ava giggled, a sound Michael had not heard in months. “Look, bubbles,” she said clearly, proudly lifting her hands.
Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He stepped back without thinking, heart racing, mind scrambling to make sense of what he had just witnessed. His daughter had spoken. Not whispered. Not murmured. She had spoken with ease and joy.
“Daddy,” Ava called when she noticed him, her smile faltering as if unsure whether she was allowed to be happy.
Michael turned away abruptly and shut himself in his study, hands shaking as he poured a drink he did not even taste. Gratitude flooded him, followed immediately by jealousy and confusion. Why could his daughter speak freely with Paige when she barely looked at him.