why?

Because of Suzy’s scream, Lara felt a sense of safety mixed with fear—afraid that the sound might have reached Robert, yet reassured because she had managed, if only for a moment, to return calm to her daughter. That small pocket of safety was something her own mother had once failed to give her.
For the first time, Lara felt that a buried wish had come true: to be the shield, not the cracked wall—to be the arms that did not tremble.

That realization softened something sharp inside her, dulling her resentment toward her mother. She no longer saw her only as an absent parent, but as a woman who had never been allowed to be more than a mother in the biological sense; a woman denied safety herself, and therefore unable to offer it. Lara understood this with painful clarity. Yet understanding did not erase wounds—it merely taught them how to bleed in silence.

Suzy, her breathing finally steady, clutched at the small woolen fabric of her mother’s dress, as if afraid that the safety would vanish the moment she fully fell asleep. Lara ran her hand slowly through her daughter’s hair, a careful, repetitive motion, as though she were trying to piece together something broken inside herself as much as she was soothing the child.

She was sinking into these thoughts when the thread was suddenly cut...

Footsteps on the stairs.

The sound was not loud, but it was enough to freeze the blood in her veins. Her hand stopped mid-motion, her breath caught without her noticing. She knew that rhythm—slow, unhurried, heavy with the weight of both body and drink.

Robert.

She pulled Suzy closer to her chest—not tightly, but cautiously, as if fear itself might wake her. Her eyes moved to the bedroom door, then to the shadows stretching along the wall as the footsteps drew nearer.
In that moment, Lara did not think of herself. She did not think of the slap, or the humiliation, or the familiar pain. Her thought was singular, sharp, unmistakable:

Not tonight… not in front of her.

The footsteps paused for a moment at the foot of the stairs, as though he were hesitating, then resumed.
And with that sound, Lara understood something bitter: the safety she had felt minutes ago was not the end of fear—it was only a brief pause in it.

Still… she was ready to pay the full price of that pause, as long as Suzy remained asleep.

Then the shadow retreated, and the sound faded until it dissolved into nothingness. Silence reclaimed the space, heavy and watchful. Lara released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, as though her lungs had been clenched in quiet captivity. She remained still for a moment longer, listening—then rose slowly and gently adjusted her daughter’s sleep, careful not to wake her.

Her earlier grip had been too tight. The fabric of her clothes had slipped, exposing her collarbone and part of her shoulder. The sight was unavoidable. Bluish traces, a deep violet stain—marks etched by years of Robert’s relentless violence. Against her pale skin, they bloomed like bruised memories, as though her body itself had grown accustomed to pain, as though it no longer knew how to remain unmarked.

Her fingertips traced them absentmindedly, without haste, without judgment. Then her hands drifted upward, to her throat. Her fingers closed around it, tightening just enough to feel the pressure. She did not know what she was reaching for in that moment. She did not know whether she was flirting with the idea of ending herself, or reliving the time Robert had crushed her neck in his grip… or whether something far more dangerous had crossed her mind—whether she wished, even briefly, for his death.

Her voice emerged soft and eerily calm, barely more than a breath.
“Why, I wonder?”

Suddenly, the door burst open.

Robert entered abruptly, striking the door with force as it flew inward.