He stood up so abruptly the chair legs scraped across the floor. “You think you’re better than me?” he said.
“I think Grandma saw us clearly,” I replied.
Leah stood too, but slower this time. She touched his arm, not to pull him back—but to steady him.
“Evan…” she said quietly.
He didn’t look at her.
He looked at me, anger and something else underneath it—something close to shame, but not quite willing to be named.
“You could help me,” he said, one last try. “You don’t need all of it.”
I held his gaze. “It’s not about what I need.”
“Then what is it about?” he demanded.
I paused, then gestured around the kitchen.
“The lightbulbs,” I said. “The grocery runs. Sitting with her after appointments. Listening when she repeated the same story three times because she forgot she’d already told it.”
His expression faltered.
“It’s about showing up,” I continued. “Not when there’s something to get. Just… showing up.”
The room went quiet again.
Outside, the lake stayed still, like it had all morning.
Evan looked down at the papers, then at the index card, then back at me. For a moment, it felt like he might say something real.
But he didn’t.
