“Honey? You alright there?” Mrs. Davison’s voice cut through the din, warm but laced with concern.

Lily blinked, a slow, mechanical motion. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what, sweetie? It’s just steak and potatoes. Your favorite.” Mrs. Davison leaned over the sneeze guard, her brow furrowing.

Lily’s response was a ghost of a whisper, swallowed by the clatter of silverware and the roar of a hundred conversations. But I was moving toward them now, my instincts flaring, and I caught the words as they fell from her trembling lips.

“He’ll be angry.”

My stride hitched. The ambient noise of the cafeteria seemed to drop away, leaving only the ringing silence around that sentence.

Angry. Not disappointed. Not upset. Angry.

“Who will be angry, Lily?” Mrs. Davison asked, her voice dropping to a hush. “Is someone bothering you?”