"Stop saying it like that."
"How would you like me to say it?"
"I didn't push her."
He pointed toward the television.
"It's recorded."
"I nudged her."
The father stared.
The distinction sickened him.
She continued quickly.
"I expected Clara to catch her."
"Her name is Clara now?"
His wife's face tightened.
"What?"
"Ten minutes ago she was a monster."
Silence.
"You told me to call the police."
"I panicked."
"No."
He shook his head.
"You blamed her before I even arrived."
His wife looked away.
"Why?"
She said nothing.
"Why frame her?"
"I wasn't framing her."
"Then why say she pushed Emma?"
"I needed an explanation."
"You had one."
Silence.
"You caused it."
His wife began crying again.
He did not move toward her.
For years, that would have been automatic.
She cried.
He comforted.
No matter the argument.
No matter who was wrong.
This time he stayed where he was.
She noticed.
"You're looking at me like I'm a stranger."
He answered quietly:
"I feel like I'm looking at one."
That hurt her.
He could see it.
But he could not fix that.
Not now.
His phone rang.
He looked down.
His assistant.
He rejected the call.
His wife saw.
"You see?"
He looked at her.
"What?"
"You can ignore work when you want."
He stared.
Even now.
Still trying to make the act prove her grievance.
He put the phone on the table.
"That is not why this happened."
"You don't listen."
"You endangered our child."
"You keep saying that."
"Because that is what matters."
"What about me?"
The father stared at her.
That question stayed between them.
What about me?
He heard months of resentment inside it.
Maybe years.
Her loneliness might have been real.
Her fear might have been real.
Her belief that her husband was drifting away might have been real.
None of those things made the staircase unreal.
"I care about you."
He said it slowly.
"But caring about you does not make this acceptable."
She looked away.
"I need help."
"Yes."
He had never said the word with so much certainty.
She turned back.
Not offended.
Almost startled.
He continued.
"You need help."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I didn't mean..."
"I know you say you didn't mean to hurt her."
"I didn't."
"But you deliberately created a dangerous situation."
She lowered her head.
"And then you tried to blame an innocent person."
Her shoulders shook.
The father looked toward the den.
"You were willing to let Clara be arrested."
His wife whispered:
"I was scared."
"So was she."