I looked at Lily.
At the bowl.
Then he turned back to her.
“I choose what I can see.”
She opened her mouth, but said nothing.
I raised the bowl.
“Would you eat that?”
No response.
“Would you give it to someone you love?”
Still nothing.
That was enough.
I placed an envelope on the table.
“There’s money here,” I said. “Enough for you to find a small apartment nearby.”
Her eyes widened. “You… are throwing me out?”
“No,” I said softly. “I’m protecting my family.”
That night, the house was silent.
I cooked fresh rice, fish and a hot soup.
When I placed the plate in front of Lily, she hesitated.
“You can eat,” I said softly.
She looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded.
She took a bite.
Tears welled up in her eyes again.
“It’s… really good.”
“I know,” I said softly.
The baby started to cry.
“I’m going,” she said, getting up.
I followed her.
She held our son in her arms, gently rocking him in the soft light.
For the first time in weeks…
She seemed peaceful.
I approached, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Read.”
She looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
