"Michael, please."
The word irritated him.
"Please what?"
"Please let me explain."
He looked around the room.
The same room.
The same couch.
The same photographs.
But suddenly it felt like he was visiting someone else's house.
"Explain."
Emma stepped forward.
"Not here."
Michael laughed quietly.
"Not here?"
His eyes moved toward Daniel.
"You mean not in front of him?"
"Michael."
"How long?"
Emma froze.
She knew exactly what he meant.
The question she feared.
"How long has this been happening?"
Daniel looked down.
Emma's silence lasted too long.
Michael felt something inside him crack.
"How long?"
"Eight months."
The answer was barely audible.
Eight months.
Michael stared.
He almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because his mind refused to accept it.
Eight months.
He had been away.
Eight months.
He had sent messages.
He had called whenever he could.
He had fallen asleep holding his phone because he wanted to hear her voice.
And for eight months, another man had been standing inside his home.
Michael looked toward the hallway.
A family picture hung there.
Him.
Emma.
Lily.
Three people smiling.
He remembered taking that picture.
Lily had complained because she wanted to wear a princess dress instead of a normal outfit.
Emma laughed so hard she almost dropped the camera.
Michael stared at the picture.
Then asked quietly:
"Does Lily know?"
Emma's expression changed.
"No."
The answer surprised him.
"No?"
"She doesn't know anything."
Michael looked at Daniel.
"Does she know him?"
Emma hesitated.
That hesitation hurt.
"She knows Daniel."
Michael closed his eyes.
"Of course she does."
"Michael."