It was seeing her hand resting comfortably over his on the white tablecloth.

Beneath the photo, Claudia texted: Do you know her?

My fingers went ice-cold against the glass of my phone.

Grace walked in from school a few minutes later, dropping her backpack onto a kitchen chair.

She looked at me in silence for a long moment.

“Is Dad eating dinner with us?”

“He has a late meeting,” I said, keeping my back to her.

Grace let out a short, hollow laugh.

“He had a meeting last Thursday, too.”

I didn’t answer.

During dinner, she casually brought up a classmate whose parents were going through a messy divorce.

She mentioned how the father had been hiding offshore accounts and how the mother discovered everything when it was already too late.

“Why are you telling me this, Grace?” I asked softly.

Grace stared down at her plate.