Maya had brought lemon bars because Mom liked them.
Dad said, “Hope you enjoy being the last branch on the tree, son.”
Maya had become a failed promise.
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I looked up. “Dad.”
“What, Daniel?” he asked, not even blinking. “I’m being realistic.”
Mom set down her wineglass. “Daniel, we’re allowed to worry about your future.”
“My future is sitting right beside me.”
“Your future should include children,” she said. “A family name doesn’t continue on good intentions.”
Maya folded her napkin slowly, lining up the corners with careful fingers.
I knew that habit. She did it when she was trying not to shake.
“I’m being realistic.”
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“Stop,” I said.
Dad leaned back. “We’re talking about family here, Daniel. That’s the most important thing.”
“No,” I said. “You’re talking about my fiancée like she isn’t here.”
Maya stood before I could answer.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said quietly. “Dessert’s on the counter.”
“Maya, baby,” I said, pushing back my chair.
She gave me one small look. It was not angry. It was worse. She was tired.
“We’re talking about family here, Daniel.”
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“I’ll wait in the car.”
I followed her to the driveway.
“I should have stopped them sooner,” I said.
“Trying isn’t the same thing,” she replied.
Maya wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t need you to win every fight, Daniel. I need you to stop bringing me into rooms where I have to prove that I’m human.”
“I’ll wait in the car.”
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That broke my heart.
She wiped under one eye before a tear could fall. “Do you?”
I didn’t answer fast enough.
Her mouth trembled once, then steadied. “You can love people and still stop handing them knives.”
***
After that, she still tried.
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