“No,” she admitted. “I haven’t. But I can see what this is doing to you.”
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, really! Well, go ahead. Enlighten me.”
“You’re freezing everything in place because you’re terrified that if one thing changes, she’ll disappear completely.”
I stiffened.
“That’s not—”
“And you’re angry at me,” she continued, her voice trembling now, “because I make it harder to pretend this house is a museum instead of a home.”
The wordmuseumhit like a slap—a painful truth I refused to accept.
My jaw flexed. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Then don’t pretend this is just about a bowl.”
Her words hit too close. It was a physical thing—a tremor ran through my limbs, tightening the muscles between my shoulders. My stomach twisted, hollowed out, and hot. Clutching the chair, I tried grounding myself, but awareness crashed in, forcing me to see how Dani’s understanding left me exposed.
“I know I don’t understand grief the way you do,” she said softly, “I haven’t lost someone like that. But Harper is alive. She’s here. She’s growing. And she deserves a home that grows with her.”
I turned on her. “Don’t tell me what my daughter deserves.”
“She deserves more than a shrine,” Dani continued, her voice breaking. “She deserves joy without feeling like she’s betraying her mom.”
“I’ve never made her feel like that.”
“She asked me if it was okay to move the blanket,” Dani pressed on. “She whispered it. Like she was doing something wrong.”
It was like taking a shot to the gut.
“You think she doesn’t feel it, Logan?” she asked. “You think keeping everything exactly how Elena left it is protecting her?”
I swallowed hard. “You don’t get to say Elena’s name like that.”
She inhaled sharply, pain flickering in her expression.
“You don’t know what it’s like to come home to a house that’s all you have left of someone,” I said, voice shaking now. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel like if one thing changes, it all disappears.”
Her eyes filled with teats. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”
“Well, you didn’t.”
“This is Elena’s house,” I said again, more to myself than her.
Dani swallowed. “And she mattered. She always will, nothing could change that.”
I met her gaze, defensive reflexes firing. “Watch it.”
“But she’s gone.” The second the words left her mouth, she froze.
“I didn’t mean—” Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t saying it like that.”
But it was too late. The truth had landed between us, heavy and irreversible.
All I could do was stare at her as anger and grief knotted so tight I couldn’t pull them apart.
“You don’t get to say that,” I whispered.
