He started to whine, his voice high and wounded. “I didn’t mean—” “Enough,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “You’ve done enough already.” She reached down and retrieved her phone, inspecting the screen. A long diagonal crack split across the glass like a quiet accusation. Her jaw tightened.
The mother sat back heavily, blotting at her blouse with a napkin. She didn’t look up again. The boy went silent. His legs hung motionless, sneakers tucked back beneath the seat like they didn’t belong to him. Daniel didn’t gloat. He didn’t turn around again.