CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Well, no place like home” Esther said as the front door creaked as it swung open, and the De-Laurents spilled back into their cluttered home like a defeated army. The chipped walls and worn linoleum floors welcomed them with the kind of familiarity that didn’t comfort, it merely tolerated.
The air inside felt warmer, safer… but only just. It carried the scent of fried plantains, old books, and unresolved tension.
Eleanor dropped her purse on the table with a heavy thud. The noise echoed like a gavel falling. She didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. Her silence was an indictment.
Esther sniffled beside her, eyes red and puffy. “I’m going to my room,” she mumbled, then trudged away without waiting for a reply. Her bedroom door clicked shut a second later.
Samuel stood in
