I forced a polite smile and set Sophie down on the rug near the coffee table, where her cousin had left a bright red toy truck. It was the kind of toy that immediately catches a child’s attention, and Sophie, being two, reached for it without hesitation, her small hands wrapping around it with quiet curiosity rather than any sense of possession.
“Tell her to put that down,” Rachel snapped suddenly, her tone shifting so quickly it felt like a crack in glass.
I stepped forward, already preparing to apologize, to smooth things over the way I always had, but before I could speak, Rachel moved.
The motion was fast, almost careless, as she grabbed the mug beside her—a full cup of steaming coffee—and with a sharp flick of her wrist, sent it flying toward my child.
Time did not slow down the way people say it does.
