Evelyn paused, the spatula hovering over the stove as she listened to her son. Her mind was still clouded with anger and confusion from the previous day, but his tone was different now—softer, almost pleading. “Michael, I saw what I saw. What more is there to explain?” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Please, just hear her out. It’s not what you think,” Michael insisted. There was an urgency in his voice that Evelyn couldn’t ignore. She sighed, glancing over at Lily, who was happily doodling at the kitchen table, her bare head reflecting the morning sunlight.
