The mother Daniel lost rather than the woman she might have become.
That did not excuse Simone.
But it explained part of the resentment.
Simone continued.
“I came into a house where Lily already had a mother everyone adored.”
“I never asked you to replace Maya.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel frowned.
She said:
“You wanted me to love Lily like a mother but never claim the role.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted me to be available.”
“Drive her.”
“Feed her.”
“Comfort her.”
“Attend school meetings.”
“Plan birthdays.”
“But if I said ‘my daughter,’ someone corrected me.”
Daniel thought.
Had that happened?
Once.
Maya’s mother had corrected Simone sharply at Thanksgiving.
She’s your stepdaughter.
Daniel had said nothing.
He remembered now.
Simone continued.
“I was supposed to give everything and still remain temporary.”
“That has nothing to do with her trust.”
“No.”
She looked down.
“But it explains why I wanted legal standing.”
“Adoption?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever ask Lily?”
Simone did not answer.
Daniel knew.
“No.”
“She’s seven.”
There it was again.
Daniel sat opposite her.
“Stop saying her age like it means her opinion counts less.”
Simone stared.
“She is a child.”
“Yes.”
“Which means adults make decisions.”
“Not every decision.”
“Hair grows back.”
“This is not about hair.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Simone looked toward the vanity.
The clipper remained there.
“I thought if I could get through today…”
“What?”
“We’d finally be a family.”
Daniel whispered:
“We already were supposed to be one.”
Her face changed.
He continued.
“Marriage wasn’t supposed to turn Lily into someone you could redesign.”
“I don’t want to redesign her.”
“You said you were fixing her.”
Simone flinched.
Daniel looked at the cut hair.
“Do you know what she asked me?”
“What?”
“She asked me not to marry you if you were mad at her.”
Simone started crying harder.
Daniel did not comfort her.
Not because he wanted punishment.
Because for years he had automatically moved toward distress.
His mother taught him.
Maya reinforced it.
Simone expected it.
A woman cried; Daniel fixed.