Page 48 of Shattered

She looked right at me. Waiting for confirmation, for me to play along with whatever reality her failing mind had constructed.

My throat felt constricted, but I answered. “I remember.”

The lie tasted bitter. But what else could I do? Watch confusion turn to grief turn to distress that would last for hours?

Daniel appeared from the kitchen, took one look at the scene playing out in his living room, and his eyes met mine. The expression on his face said everything his mouth couldn’t.This is going to be a disaster.

He wasn’t wrong.

Dinner was torture disguised as family bonding.

Elena seated Jake next to Delia at the table. Put me directly across from them where I had a perfect view of every casual touch, every smile, every moment Jake leaned in to whisper something that made the tension in Delia’s shoulders soften just slightly.

I watched it happen—her defenses lowering inch by inch while Jake worked his charm like he was running a campaign.

“So,” Elena said after Maria brought out the first course. Chicken that smelled incredible but tasted like sawdust in my mouth. “How’s married life treating you two?”

Delia opened her mouth but Jake beat her to it.

“It’s wonderful, Mrs. Santoro. I’m very lucky.”

My hand tightened around my fork hard enough that my knuckles went white. The urge to throw it across the table was so strong I had to set it down completely.

“I’m so glad you worked everything out.” Elena beamed at them like they were proof that love conquered all. “I was worried for a while there, but I knew you’d figure it out. You two make such sense together.”

“Thank you,” Jake said, his voice warm. “That means a lot.”

Daniel stared at his plate, Maria had developed a sudden fascination with the ceiling tiles. And I sat there trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person instead of someone slowly suffocating.

“Jake, would you pour the wine?” Elena asked. “You brought it, after all.”

“Of course.”

He stood, picked up the bottle with smooth ease. First for Elena, leaning down to pour with that easy grace that came from years of networking events and business dinners. Then Maria. Then Daniel, who looked like he wanted to refuse but didn’t because that would cause questions nobody wanted to answer.

Then Delia. Jake leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed hers, smiling down at her like they shared some private joke.

Then he came to my glass.

We locked eyes as he poured. The air between us felt charged, electric with everything neither of us could say in front of this table. Some wordless acknowledgment that we both knew exactly what was happening here and exactly what was at stake.

“Thanks,” I said. The word came out flat. Dead.

“No problem.” His smile stayed pleasant. “Family should help each other out.”

Family. The word landed like a punch to the ribs.

I took a long drink of wine and imagined punching him. Just once. Right in his perfect teeth.

“So when are you two going to give me grandchildren?” Elena asked, bright and hopeful like she’d just asked about weekend plans.

Delia choked on her water, coughing hard enough that Daniel had to lean over and pat her back while she struggled to breathe.

“Mom,” Daniel said gently. “Maybe?—”

“What? I’m just asking. I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to meet my grandchildren before…” She trailed off. Something flickered across her face. Awareness, maybe. A brief moment where she understood exactly what she was losing. Then the confusion returned, soft and relentless. “Before I forget who they are.”

The table went silent. The kind of silence that felt heavy. Suffocating.