“Mommy… are you mad at me?”
Isabella’s voice was barely louder than a whisper as the apartment door closed behind them. The familiar click of the lock echoed through the small space, too loud, too final. Fingers twisting together the way she always did when she was scared.
Elise didn’t turn around right away.
She dropped her keys on the counter with a sharp clatter, her movements tense, rigid. The air around her felt heavy—different from the quiet that usually filled the apartment. This wasn’t the tired silence Elise sometimes carried home. This was sharp. Angry. Dangerous in a way Isabella didn’t have words for.
“What do you think?” Elise finally snapped.
Isabella flinched.
Her lower lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. Crying sometimes made Mommy angrier. Sometimes it made her cold. S
