JUNE’S POVThe door slam wasn’t just a sound in this house. It was a punctuation mark. This one, sharp and final, came from down the hall, Marlene’s room. My body went still in the middle of folding a towel. The laundry room air felt suddenly thick and hot. Minor drama, Luca’s text had said. Sorted out, don’t worry. Bullshit. Nothing that ends with a slam like that is sorted. It’s ignited.I finished the fold with careful precision, set the towel on the stack, and listened. Heavy footsteps, most likely Adrian’s, stomped past the door toward the kitchen. The fridge opened, then slammed shut. Franklin was supposedly at the office, but the house felt crowded with all the things we weren’t saying. I needed to see her. I needed to know what minor drama looked like on my daughter’s face.I found her curled on her bed, face buried in her pillow. Not sobbing, but her shoulders were rigid with the effort of holding it in. “Marlene?” I kept my voice soft, sitting on the edge of the bed the way
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