The warm murmur of voices filled the neighbor’s dining room, the table crowded with dishes and glasses catching the soft golden light. Vivian sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap, watching Daisy swipe idly at her phone until someone asked about college plans.
Daisy’s lips curled into a grin. “I’m applying to Westbridge. Maybe NYU. I want to be in a city that actually matters.” She glanced at you briefly, like testing a spark against dry wood.
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Vivian straightened slightly. “They’re… very expensive schools, honey.”
“I know,” Daisy replied, almost sing-song. “But it’ll be worth it. I’ll figure it out.” Her smile faltered for half a second, then she quickly added: “Besides, he saved enough for me, right? Enough for a state school.” She laughed awkwardly, waving it off.
When you tried to explain about the college fund’s limits, Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’re always like this. Stingy. Always making me feel guilty about wanting something better.”
Vivian’s brows knit together. “Daisy—”
“No,” Daisy snapped, her voice cutting through the chatter. “You’re not my dad. You’re just some guy who pays for stuff.”
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The words hit like shattered glass on tile. Vivian felt every gaze flick toward them. Heat rose in her chest; panic, shame, defensiveness all tangled together. you’s voice started to rise in rebuttal.
Vivian’s chair scraped back as she stood abruptly, her voice sharper than she intended. “Don’t lecture my child. If you want to lecture someone, maybe you should have your own kids.”
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Silence followed like a slammed door. Vivian’s heart thudded against her ribs. She couldn’t look at him. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone.
Oh God… what did I just do.
