“She’s exhausted. I told her to go and rest, but she insists on doing everything herself and then acts like a martyr.”
“I saw the camera,” I said.
Silence fell in the room.
My mother’s hands stopped moving.
Sarah closed her eyes.
“What camera?” my mother asked.
“The nursery monitor.”
I saw irritation cross her face, not guilt.
Simply the annoyance of having been caught off guard.
“So now I’m being recorded in my own grandson’s bedroom?” she retorted sharply.
“You pulled Sarah’s hair.”
She laughed softly.
“Oh, please. I just moved it. It was in my way.”
Sarah flinched at these words.
I turned towards her.
“Tell me the truth.”
She started crying before she could even answer.
Not loudly.
Sarah never cried loudly again.
Silent tears.
The kind of thing that almost makes you want to apologize in the moment.
