“That was the birthday cake incident,” Meg noted. “The fried rice was when you forgot we were cooking and let it burn while you were editing photos.”
“I was twelve. How was I editing photos?”
“Dark room. You were always in that converted closet Dad set up.”
“Right. My chemical hazard phase.”
The phone buzzed again. Stella’s hand twitched toward it, then pulled back.
“You can check,” Tyler said. “We don’t have phone rules.”
“It’s fine. Probably just...” She trailed off as it buzzed a third time, insistent.
“Stella,” Meg said gently. “If someone’s calling repeatedly?—“
“I know.” She flipped the phone over, saw the screen, went very still. “It’s Mum.”
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller. Tyler set down his fork. “Your mom?”
“Five missed calls.” Stella stared at the phone like it might bite. “She doesn’t call multiple times unless—“ It started ringing again, her mum’s name bright on the screen.
“You should answer,” Tyler said quietly. “Could be important.”
Stella looked between them, something like panic in her eyes. Then she took a breath, swiped to answer. “Hello?”
Even from across the table, they could hear her mother’s voice—not the words, but the tone. Rapid, stressed, a pitch that spoke of crisis.
“Slow down,” Stella said. “What happened?”
Tyler and Meg exchanged glances, both fighting the urge to lean closer.
“David’s twins are sick?” Stella’s free hand clenched on the table. “Both of them?”
More rapid words from her mum. Stella’s face cycled through emotions—concern, frustration, something harder to read.
“I understand it’s difficult,” she said carefully. “But what does that have to do with—” She stopped, listened. Her expression went flat. “You want me to come back. Now.”
It wasn’t a question.
Tyler’s whole body went rigid. Meg reached for his hand under the table.
“The summer,” Stella said, voice steady but cold. “We agreed to the whole summer. That was the deal.”
Her mum’s voice rose, audible but unintelligible. Stella closed her eyes.
“I know the twins are a handful. I know you’re tired. But that’s not—” She was cut off again. “No, I’m not being selfish. You made this choice.”
The voice on the other end shifted, softer now, wheedling.
“Don’t,” Stella said sharply. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you miss me when what you miss is free babysitting.”
Tyler made an involuntary sound. Stella’s eyes flew open, found his across the table.
“I’m not coming back early,” she said, holding Tyler’s gaze. “We made an agreement. The whole summer with my father. With my family.”
The word hung in the air like a gift.
Her mum’s voice rose again, but Stella was already pulling the phone away from her ear.
