Two days later, Marian noticed something strange.
Lily stopped talking during meals. Ethan withdrew during games. Their eyes followed Diana whenever she entered a room.
That night, Lily woke up crying—silent tears soaking her pillow.
“She said Mommy wouldn’t like me anymore,” Lily whispered, clutching Marian’s sleeve. “She said Mommy is sad because we’re happy.”
Marian’s chest tightened.
“That’s not true,” she said firmly. “Your mom would want you to live. To laugh.”
“But Aunt Diana said—”
“I know what she said,” Marian interrupted softly. “And she’s wrong.”
The next morning, Marian requested a conversation.
All four adults sat in the living room: Marian, Richard, Diana—and Mrs. Parker lingering nearby, pretending to dust the same shelf.
“The children are confused,” Marian said calmly. “They’re being pulled in different directions.”
Diana folded her arms. “I’m protecting my sister’s memory.”
“And I’m protecting her children,” Marian replied. “Those two things should not be enemies.”
Richard looked between them. “Diana…”
“You’re letting a stranger manipulate them,” Diana snapped. “She’s making them forget.”
Marian stood. Her voice didn’t rise—but it filled the room.