Chapter 2 - Move
I had spent most of my adult life avoiding unnecessary fights.
That surprises people because I am built like someone who enjoys them.
I do not.
At seventy, falls are expensive.
So are lawyers.
I said:
“Move.”
Quietly.
Daniel did not.
Instead:
“You cannot keep undermining us in front of her.”
“Mara locked a three-year-old behind a gate.”
“It’s a timeout.”
“She’s crying.”
“That’s what children do when boundaries are enforced.”
Behind him, Olivia stretched one hand through the bars.
“Grandpa.”
Something inside me went cold.
Not hot.
Cold.
I stepped sideways.
Daniel moved with me.
Then grabbed my forearm.
That was his mistake.
I broke the grip.
He grabbed again.
I drove one punch into his upper chest and shoulder line.
Hard.
Enough to move him.
Daniel stumbled backward into the wooden patio table.
The table tipped.
Mara screamed:
“Daniel!”
I did not follow him.
Did not hit him again.
Did not threaten him.
May you like
I went to Olivia.
That distinction would matter later.
