I arrived unexpectedly and was freezing. My daughter was washing dishes in the cold while her husband and mother-in-law ate peacefully. I didn’t say a word. I simply took out my phone and made a call.

I went to my daughter Laura’s house without telling her.

I almost never did this, but for weeks, a feeling of unease had been creeping over me: the deep-seated conviction that something was wrong. It was impossible to explain rationally. It was simply maternal instinct, and this time, I decided not to ignore it.

I rang the bell. No one answered. After a moment’s wait, I used the spare set of keys that Laura had given me years before, « just in case ».

As soon as I crossed the threshold, I felt the cold. Not the cold of winter, but a deeper cold, which made the house feel inhospitable and oppressive.

The steady sound of running water came from the kitchen.

I approached it silently. What I saw froze me in my tracks.

Laura stood at the sink, relentlessly washing dishes. She wore a thin sweater, clearly not warm enough. Her hands trembled slightly, her shoulders were stiff. Her hair was carelessly tied back, and her face looked weary—no tears, no anger, just exhaustion.

At the table sat her husband, Daniel, and her mother-in-law, Margaret. Bundled up in warm clothes, they ate comfortably and chatted as if nothing were amiss. Laura was almost invisible.

Margaret pushed away her empty plate. Daniel immediately stood up and called towards the kitchen:

« Are you finished? Bring us something to eat. »