Real tears.
That complicated things.
It always does.
She whispered:
“I love you.”
I felt pain.
Not anger.
Pain.
Because I loved her too.
That is the part outsiders struggle with.
When someone you love does something unacceptable, love does not always disappear on command.
Sometimes it remains and becomes inconvenient.
“I know.”
I said.
“You don't sound like it.”
“I know.”
“You think I hurt her.”
“I watched you hurt her.”
“She was being disrespectful all week.”
“That does not justify this.”
“I didn't hit her.”
“No.”
“You didn't.”
“I made her clean.”
“For two hours with chemical irritation.”
“I told her to wear gloves.”
“Nia says you didn't.”
“She's lying.”
Zoe’s voice came from doorway.
“No, she's not.”
All of us turned.
The eight-year-old stood there.
Malik was behind her.
Renee's face changed.
“Zoe.”
The girl held something.
A small tablet.
Her children shared it for games and school videos.
“I have it.”
Renee went pale.
“What?”
Zoe looked at me.
“I recorded Mom.”
Simone whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Renee stepped toward her daughter.
“Give me that.”
Zoe backed away.
I immediately moved between them.
“No.”
“Marcus, that belongs to me.”
“It belongs to her father.”
Renee glared.
“You have no right.”
“I’m not taking it.”
I looked at Zoe.
“Do you want to show me?”
She nodded.
Her hands shook.
“Mom makes Nia do stuff when you're gone.”
Renee shouted:
“That is enough!”
Malik started crying.
Zoe flinched.
I turned.