“He says you're tired and I shouldn't make trouble for you.” Maya looked at Evan, then quickly away. “He says you have enough on your shoulders without me being ungrateful.”
Danielle had to press her feet against the floor to steady herself. It was her own exhaustion he had used, a real and visible thing, turned into a reason Maya should disappear. She remembered the nights Maya had asked whether they could talk after dinner and Danielle had answered, “Give me ten minutes,” only to fall asleep over an open laptop.
“Maya,” Danielle said, “you never have to protect me from knowing when something hurts you.”
Evan made a frustrated noise. “She isn't hurt. She's sulking because she didn't get her way about a club.”
The word club made Danielle turn. “What club?”
“Robotics,” Maya said. “Mr. Chen sent me an invitation. I was going to tell you tonight.”
“I thought you weren't interested anymore.” Danielle remembered asking about it three weeks earlier. Maya had shrugged and said maybe next semester. “Who told me you changed your mind?”
“I did,” Maya said. “Because he told me there wasn't room for another thing on your schedule.”
“He had a point,” Evan said. “You are never home. Somebody has to make the decisions.”
“Making decisions isn't the same as deciding one child matters less,” Danielle replied.
Zoe set her fork down. Her eyes were wet, though she had not cried. “Dad said Maya didn't want chicken,” she murmured. “But last time she did. I heard her ask. He told her she knew the rules.”
Evan turned toward his daughter. “Zoe, that isn't what happened.”
“It is,” she said, startled by her own courage. “I was sitting right here.”
Noah pushed his box away, looking suddenly sick of the food he had been enjoying. “I didn't know,” he told Maya. “I thought you liked sandwiches.”
“I do,” Maya said automatically, then stopped. She looked at Danielle. “I mean, sometimes I do. When I choose them.”
Danielle stood and carried Maya's plate to the counter. She did not throw it away or announce that the chicken was now forbidden. Instead she went back and knelt beside her daughter so they were eye level.
“What would you like to eat tonight?” she asked.
Maya did not answer immediately. Her eyes moved toward Evan, looking for permission. Danielle understood then that fixing dinner was not going to be as simple as opening another box.
“Whatever you choose,” Danielle added. “And you don't have to choose quickly.”
“Could I have some potatoes?” Maya asked at last. “And maybe one of the biscuits?”
“You can have dinner,” Danielle said, and felt her voice crack. “A whole dinner.”
Evan pushed his chair back. “So that's it? She gets rewarded for embarrassing me?”
“No,” Danielle said. “She gets fed because she lives here. Those are two very different things.”
He shook his head and began talking about disrespect, standards, and how hard it was to be a stepfather without authority. The longer he spoke, the less he seemed to notice the children beside him. Danielle listened until he said something about Maya holding on to her dead father's name like it gave her special rights.
“Stop,” she said.
Evan blinked.
“You will not use Aaron's death as an argument against his child. Not tonight. Not ever.”