“I know.”
“She’s good to him.”
“Most of the time.”
“She’s good to you and Jordan.”
Maya nodded slowly.
“And Dad is happy.”
“Was.”
The word came softly.
Tiana looked at her.
Maya shrugged.
“He doesn’t look happy downstairs.”
Before Tiana could answer, Marcus appeared in the doorway.
Neither girl heard him approach.
“How long have you been standing there?” Tiana asked.
“Long enough.”
Maya immediately looked guilty.
Marcus stepped inside.
“Come here, May.”
She approached.
He kissed the top of her head.
“You did nothing wrong.”
Maya nodded.
“Go find Jordan.”
She left.
Marcus closed the door.
Then sat in the desk chair across from Tiana.
Not beside her.
That was something he learned during Aisha’s illness.
When Tiana felt cornered, space mattered.
He looked toward the photograph.
Then at his daughter.
“What haven’t you told me?”
Tiana’s heart sank.
“Dad.”
“No.”
His voice was gentle.
“But no.”
He leaned forward.
“I heard enough.”
She looked down.
“How long?”
Silence.
“Tee.”
“Since when?”
“Since Vanessa started treating you differently.”
“She doesn’t.”
Marcus stared.
Tiana could not sustain the lie.
“She does sometimes.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Months?”
“Yes.”
“Years?”
She said nothing.
Marcus inhaled slowly.
That silence answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tiana felt anger suddenly.
“Because you were happy.”
Marcus froze.
She immediately regretted saying it.
But the words had been waiting too long.
“You were sad forever after Mom died.”
“Tiana—”
“You were.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“You stopped going places.”
“You barely slept.”
“You used to sit downstairs after I went to bed and stare at nothing.”
“I remember.”
Marcus looked shattered.
“You were six.”
“I still remember.”
He lowered his eyes.
Tiana continued.
“Then Vanessa came.”
“You laughed again.”
“You started cooking things besides pasta.”
“You took us places.”
“You stopped looking like you were waiting for something bad to happen.”
“So when she started saying stuff…”
Tiana shrugged helplessly.
“I thought maybe it was easier if I ignored it.”
Marcus covered his mouth with one hand.
She continued because stopping felt impossible now.
“She never hits me.”
“Today she shoved you.”