From the backseat, Jasper’s face was a storm of barely restrained anger. The moment we got into the car, he snapped.
“Mom, how could you?”
I met his resentful gaze, my voice calm and steady. “How could I what?”
Jasper let out a cold laugh, sharp with accusation. “Stop pretending. You went to Grandma’s behind everyone’s back just to badmouth Aunt Ava. Now that Grandma scolded her and kicked her out, are you satisfied?”
I had to admit my son’s imagination was impressive.
The older he got, the more he resembled Hugo, calm and composed yet carrying an undercurrent of quiet cruelty.
I tilted my head slightly. “And how do you know I spoke ill of your Aunt Ava?”
“Did you hear it with your own ears?”
He rolled his eyes, his voice laced with disdain. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He spoke with such certainty as if I had been born a scheming troublemaker.
I had no idea what I had done to make him see me this way.
At that moment, I felt like a complete failure.
Any explanation would sound like an excuse, so I swallowed my words and chose silence.
A quiet beat passed before Hugo spoke, his voice softer than usual.
“Jasper, don’t talk to your mother like that.”