Delilah’s POV
I told myself mornings were a chance to start over. Maybe if I smiled often enough, she’d believe it.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I said, setting a tray beside her. “Porridge with honey, the way you like.”
Myra didn’t even glance up. “Thank you,” she said politely. “But I already ate.”
There was no plate, no spoon anywhere in sight. I kept the smile on my face anyway. “Then a little fruit?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Each word was soft, yet sharp enough to draw blood. I stirred the porridge that no one would eat. “Your father asked me to check on you.”
“I am doing fine.” She adjusted the blanket on her lap. Her words weren’t rude and neither were her actions. They were just signs that she was done with me.
I lingered for a moment, pretending to fix the napkin. “Anything before
