“We’re fine,” Daniel replied quickly, trying to sound unconcerned. “Just a family dinner.”

Mark didn’t respond immediately. He walked around the table, looking at each person, his expression unreadable. He approached the kitchen slowly, as if giving Laura time to react.

“Laura, can we talk for a moment? Outside?” he asked gently.

Laura glanced at Daniel, who scowled but said nothing. She hesitated, then nodded, wiping her hands on a towel.

Together, they stepped outside into the crisp air. I stayed behind, leaning against the wall, watching Daniel and Margaret. My heart ached for my daughter, who seemed to be trapped in a cycle of silent suffering.