Clara had always been observant, the kind of woman who noticed a chipped nail or a missed phone call.

“I offered to go,” Derek said quickly, his hand moving to his collar.

He loosened it slightly, just a fraction of an inch.

“But Monica was already on her feet,” he added.

“Actually, Derek was right behind me,” I said.

I let my gaze linger on Richard’s face.

“He wanted to make sure I didn’t lose my footing,” I said.

“And yet, you did,” Richard said.

“Yes,” I said.

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the low hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

“It happened so fast,” I said.

“I tried to catch her,” Derek said, his voice tightening.

“He did,” I said. “He grabbed my arm very hard.”

I gently touched the sleeve of my dress, right where the dark purple bruises were hidden beneath the fabric.

“But the force of it just carried us both down,” I said.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break a collarbone,” Clara said, shuddering.

“I am very lucky,” I said.

“We both are,” Derek said.