“I don’t know yet.” “Is Dad mad at us?” “No. Absolutely not.”
Lauren sat beside her. “Dad is not mad at you or Sophie.” Emma picked at the hem of her shirt. “Is he mad at you?”
Lauren could have softened the answer. She chose not to. “Yes.” “Because you hurt Elijah?”
“Yes.” Emma’s eyes filled again. “I don’t want Elijah to think I wanted that picture.” Lauren’s throat tightened.
“He won’t.” “How do you know?” “I’m going to make sure he knows.” Emma considered that.
“You have to say sorry first.” Children had a ruthless talent for locating the center of things. “I know,” Lauren whispered. Downstairs, Sophie discovered the recording by accident.
She picked up Lauren’s phone to move it away from a cup near the fireplace and saw the camera app still open. A video thumbnail showed the family lined beneath the banner. Sophie hesitated, then tapped it. The clip began with Lauren adjusting everyone into position, Emma giggling, Elijah smiling toward the camera.
Then came the sentence. Elijah, step aside. I want one picture with just the family. Sophie watched her brother’s face change.
She watched herself look down. The shame of that detail hit her hardest. She had known in the exact instant what her mother meant. She had known it was wrong.
She had stayed quiet anyway. On the screen, Emma reached for Elijah’s sleeve. Michael turned toward Lauren. The argument unfolded exactly as memory preserved it, except video stripped everyone of the protective edits they were already beginning to make in their own heads.
Sophie watched until the front door closed. Then she carried the phone upstairs to Lauren. “You need to see this,” she said. Lauren’s first instinct was refusal.