The silver clink of a fork against a china plate was the loudest sound in the dining room, yet it felt like a gunshot.I kept my eyes fixed on my peas, pushing them around in a circle of buttery glaze. Across from me, my mother, Elaine, was laughing—that bright, melodic sound that usually filled me with warmth but now felt like sandpaper against my nerves. She was leaning toward him, her hand resting casually, possessively, on his forearm.Laredo.He didn’t look at her. He was looking at me. Even without raising my head, I could feel the weight of his stare. It was heavy, dark, and entirely inappropriate for a man who had signed my school permission slips and sat at the head of our table for five years."Lisa, honey, you’ve barely touched your dinner," Elaine said, her voice dripping with maternal concern. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little... flushed.""I'm fine, Mom," I lied, the word tasting like ash. "Just a long day at the library.""You work too hard," Laredo chimed
Last Updated : 2026-02-27 Read more