She walked in, kicked off her sneakers, and called, “Hey, Mom!” like she always did.
Her voice sounded normal.
Her face looked normal—until I saw the faint shadow under her eyes. The tiredness that wasn’t “stayed up late reading,” but something heavier.
“How was school?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Fine,” Lily said easily, heading for the kitchen. “We had that math quiz. I think I did good.”
“Anything else?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was fishing.
She opened the fridge, staring for half a second like she couldn’t decide what she wanted. “Not really. Just… school stuff.”
I watched her pour a glass of water and drink it fast, like she’d been thirsty all day. Her shoulders were slightly hunched. Not dramatic—just a small protective posture I hadn’t noticed before.
“Mrs. Greene saw you walking home yesterday,” I said, casually, like it was an afterthought.
Lily didn’t freeze.
That’s what scared me.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stumble.
She turned and smiled—soft, practiced, almost too smooth.
“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Yeah. I had to come home for something. I forgot my science project, remember? Ms. Patel said I could grab it.”
My stomach tightened because it made sense.
It made just enough sense to be believable.
“Oh,” I said slowly. “I didn’t know she let you.”
Lily shrugged. “She did. It’s fine.”
And there it was again—that sentence that always closed doors.
It’s fine.
I looked at her, searching her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
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