He looked at his fiancée, then his eyes drifted over to Emma standing by the stone wall.

The silence between them stretched, cold and dangerous, as the snow continued to fall.

Julian stood in the doorway, his dark wool overcoat unbuttoned.

He looked at Vanessa, then his gaze shifted to Emma.

Emma was still smiling, her small red mittens pressed against the wet limestone wall.

“Mama, look,” Emma whispered, her voice carrying in the quiet air.

I hurried down the salt-dusted steps, my boots slipping slightly on the ice.

“Emma, come here,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could.

I scooped her up into my arms, feeling the damp chill of her fleece jacket.

She buried her face in my shoulder, suddenly aware of the heavy silence.

Vanessa watched us, her nose wrinkled as if she had stepped in something foul.

“Julian, why is there a child on the driveway?” Vanessa asked.

Her voice was sharp, like glass snapping underfoot.

Julian did not answer right away.

He walked down the steps, his leather shoes crunching on the gravel.

He stopped a few feet from us.