“You want me to spy on your daughters?”
“I want you to tell me what happens when I leave the room,” I replied. “Because they’re clearly doing something.”
Daniel had known me for years. He was patient, sensible, and not easily intimidated.
Or so I believed.
That Friday I introduced him as the man I’d recently started dating.
My daughters welcomed him with perfect smiles.
Almost too perfect.
Dinner felt completely normal.
We ate pasta, joked about an old movie, and talked about work. My youngest asked Daniel about his dog.
My oldest barely spoke.
She simply watched him with a small, knowing smile.
Halfway through dinner, I stood up.
“I forgot dessert in the garage.”
I stayed there several minutes, pretending to search the freezer.
When I returned, everything had changed.
Daniel sat frozen.
His face had lost all color, and he gripped his fork so tightly his knuckles turned white.
