“We will go down together.”

He didn’t wait for my answer; he grabbed my elbow, his grip firm enough to bruise.

We walked out of Eleanor’s room, leaving her in the dim warmth of the bedside lamp.

The hallway stretched out before us, carpeted in a thick, neutral beige that swallowed our footsteps.

At the end of the hall, Lily’s door was painted a soft pink, a stark contrast to the heavy oak doors of the rest of the house.

I pulled away from his grip, my skin prickling with sweat.

“Let go of me, Nathan.”

He stopped, his arms hanging limp at his sides, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

“Don’t make a scene in front of her,” he whispered.

I didn’t reply; I hurried down the hall and pushed Lily’s door open.

She was sitting on her rug, arranging her plastic horses in a neat circle.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said without looking up.

“Hi, sweetie,” I said, my voice trembling as I knelt beside her.

I touched her hair, feeling the soft, fine strands between my fingers.