“Papa,” Julian said, voice small but steady. “May I tell you something?”
Edward nodded. “Of course.”
Julian drew in a breath. “Today is Mama’s birthday.”
The words struck harder than Edward expected.
For an instant, the study vanished—the desk, the papers, the letter locked away. All he could see was Eleanor as she had been: laughing softly as Julian pressed flowers into her hands, the way she had pretended surprise each year, as though the celebration were unexpected.
His chest tightened reflexively.
Julian continued, encouraged by the silence. “We used to decorate. And play music. Miss Charlotte thought maybe we could—just a little—”
“No.”
The word came out colder than Edward intended. Final. Absolute.
The memory slammed shut like a door.
Julian froze.
Edward pushed on, the instinct to survive overriding everything else. “That is not necessary. We will not—”
Julian’s face crumpled.
He turned and ran, the sound of his retreating footsteps echoing far too loudly in the room.
Silence fell.
Charlotte stared at Edward, shock giving way to something sharper. Anger flared in her eyes—not wild or hysterical, but fierce and contained.
“How could you?” she demanded.
Edward bristled. “You will not speak to me in that tone.”
“I will,” she said, stepping forward, “if it is the only way you will hear me.”
The audacity of it stunned him.
“You are not the only one who grieves,” she continued, voice shaking now. “But you are the only one in this room with the power to ease that grief—and you refuse to use it.”
Edward turned away. “You do not understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” she said. “You are protecting yourself. And in doing so, you are abandoning your son.”
The words landed like a blow.
Edward spun back toward her, fury and something far more ominous twisting together in his chest. “You presume too much.”
“I presume nothing,” Charlotte replied. “I see a boy who is drowning quietly because the one person he needs most will not look back at him.”
Edward had no answer for that.
Charlotte’s voice softened—but the truth in it did not. “He does not need silence. He needs permission to remember her.”
The room seemed to shrink around them.
For a long moment, Edward said nothing.
