Daniel texted Jenna.
Can we have dinner at Mom and Dad’s Sunday? Mom’s making roast.
She replied:
Of course 🩷
I hated the heart.
Sunday arrived.
I cooked anyway.
At 5:40, Daniel came alone.
He stood beside me in the kitchen.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
At six, Jenna arrived.
She kissed my cheek.
“Hi, Carol.”
I nearly flinched.
Mark came downstairs a few minutes later.
He saw Daniel.
Then Jenna.
Then me.
For one second, nobody spoke.
Something changed in his face.
He knew.
We sat down.
Nobody touched the food.
Jenna tried first.
“Okay.”
She gave a nervous laugh.
“This is weird.”
Daniel looked straight at her.
“How long have you been sleeping with my father?”
No buildup.
No speech.
No theatrics.
Jenna’s face emptied.
Mark immediately said:
“Daniel—”
“No.”
My son didn’t raise his voice.
“I asked my wife.”
Jenna looked at me.
Then Mark.
