Elise tilted her head. “Plans?” Olivia gave a small, uncertain smile. “He likes order and method—feeding schedules and nappy changes and so on. He thinks life works better when we plan ahead.” She looked away, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve, her tone flat as a recited line.
Elise recognized the pattern—control wrapped in affection, boundaries disguised as care. She suggested counseling, softly, without judgment. Olivia only smiled—a sad, knowing curve of the lips. “He wouldn’t understand,” she murmured.