Ava had already told me Bianca arrived with boxes and had chosen which of her sons would take Ava’s room.
This was not a misunderstanding that started five minutes ago.
They had discussed closets, bedrooms, moving trucks, and where Daniel and I supposedly would live.
Somewhere in all that planning, nobody had thought it necessary to speak to the people already living there.
“Mom said you’d understand,” Bianca finally said.
“Understand what?” Daniel asked.
“That you were moving into our home while we were at work?”
“We need more space.”
“Then you ask.”
“I’m pregnant, Daniel.”
“I know.”
Bianca’s eyes widened, as though his calmness offended her.
“You know what our townhouse is like.
Four kids in that place is impossible.”
Daniel nodded once.
“Then we can talk about ways to help you.
That conversation ends the moment helping you requires throwing my daughter out of her bedroom.”
Helena cut in.
“Nobody threw her out.”
I turned toward the stairwell.
Ava was still standing there.
“Ava,” I said gently, “what did Grandma tell you?”
Helena’s head snapped toward me.
“Do not drag a child into an adult dispute.”
That sentence almost made me laugh.
“You started this dispute in her bedroom.”
Ava swallowed.
Her voice was small, but the courtyard was quiet enough for everyone to hear.
“Grandma said Bianca’s boys needed my room and that I should pack because Mom and Dad already agreed.”
Helena opened her mouth.
Ava kept going.
“She said my stuff was junk.”
Victor looked at his wife.
For the first time since I arrived, he seemed uncomfortable rather than merely annoyed.
Daniel’s face went still again.
“Did you put her belongings in trash bags?”
Helena waved one hand.
“I was helping organize.”
“You put her birthday cards in a garbage bag.”
“They were clutter.”
“Her lamp?”
“Cheap plastic.”
“The clay turtle she made when she was nine?”
Helena frowned, as if she could not understand why any of those objects mattered.
“Daniel, stop being sentimental.
Bianca has real needs.”
Something shifted in his expression.
Not anger exactly.
Recognition.
He was finally seeing the rule his mother had operated by for years: whatever she valued became important, and whatever someone else loved could be dismissed as waste.
“Ava has real needs,” he said.
Helena rolled her eyes.
“She has two parents who spoil her.”
Ava flinched.
Daniel saw it.
“Go upstairs with your mom,” he told her softly.
