Chapter 6: Fractured Memories
The following morning, the sunlight offered little warmth as it cut across the kitchen table. David sat across from Elena, watching her stir her coffee with an absentminded intensity. He had debated whether to tell her about Lily’s late-night conversation, but the hesitation gnawed at him. How does one tell their already fragile partner that their daughter is conversing with a phantom that looks suspiciously like her?
"You look pale," Elena said quietly, breaking the silence without looking up from her mug. "Did you not sleep well?"
"Thinking about work," David lied smoothly, though the fabrication tasted like ash in his mouth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Elena, we need to talk about Lily. About how she's handling... everything."
Elena finally raised her eyes, her gaze sharp and analytical. "She's handling it the way any child would whose parents are living under the same roof like strangers. Why? What did she do now?"
"It’s not what she did. It’s what she said last night." David paused, choosing his words carefully. "She mentioned seeing someone in the house. Someone wearing a beige robe."
Elena’s hand froze mid-motion. The spoon clinked against the ceramic cup, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet kitchen. She stared at David, her expression shifting from fatigue to a deep, guarded wariness. "I wear a beige robe, David. You know that. It’s the only thing I've been living in for the past three weeks."
"She knows that too, Elena. But she insists it wasn't you," David pressed gently, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry up the stairs. "She said... she said the woman stood by the glass doors at night. She said the woman gave her the cleaning gloves."
Elena stood up abruptly, knocking her chair back a few inches against the linoleum floor. "Are you listening to yourself? You're letting a ten-year-old child's overactive imagination—fueled by our miserable household environment—turn into some kind of ghost story? Is this how we cope now? We invent specters to avoid talking about why our marriage is a hollow shell?"
"I'm not inventing anything," David said, standing up to meet her level. "I'm telling you what she told me. Word for word. And I found those gloves on the floor yesterday afternoon before I even stepped inside the house properly. Someone placed them there."
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Before Elena could retort, a soft sound from the doorway made them both turn. Lily stood there, wearing her light blue t-shirt and shorts, her bare feet planted on the floor. She looked at her parents with an unsettling calmness, her dark eyes taking in their tense postures.
"She's here now," Lily said softly, pointing a small finger toward the hallway leading to the foyer.
