(Caroline's POV)
Jason is standing at the counter checking his phone. His back is half-turned toward the doorway where I am, obscured by the open dishwasher door. He can see me if he looks. Helen cannot.
I know this because I've stopped making noise.
Something in her tone makes me unconsciously tighten my grip around the cutlery I was holding.
"She seems fragile," Helen says. Her voice is soft, concerned, pitched exactly for a private conversation between two people who know each other well. "I don't mean it unkindly. I just — I've been watching her this week. She seems to carry a lot on her shoulder."
"Caroline is fine," Jason says. His voice is flat in a way Helen probably reads as a casual remark. I read it as something closer to irritation.
"I'm sure she is." A pause — and I can
