One evening, she ordered the kitchen emptied before the tea tray arrived. Daniel entered to find her standing beside the fireplace, fully dressed.
Daniel never spoke the plant’s name aloud.
His mother had taught him its dangers, but she had also taught him that desperation could make a person mistake destruction for escape.
The first time Eleanor became ill, he nearly confessed.
She gripped the breakfast table, trembling, while a porcelain cup shattered at her feet. For one terrible moment, Daniel saw another helpless body caught inside someone else’s decision.
Then she pointed at him.
“Don’t stand there. Fetch the physician.”
He obeyed.
For several days, the household moved around her sickness in frightened silence. The nightly summons stopped. Daniel slept, though never peacefully.
Then Eleanor began recovering.
And watching.
One evening, she ordered the kitchen emptied before the tea tray arrived. Daniel entered to find her standing beside the fireplace, fully dressed.
“Drink it,” she said.
He looked at the cup.
Outside, rain struck the windows.
“Drink.”
“No.”
Her expression changed. She
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