We started eating.
The taste seemed strange to me; it wasn’t spoiled, it wasn’t harsh, just… bland. I attributed it to fatigue. To lack of sleep. To the anxiety that distorted my senses
After a few minutes, I struggled to hold the fork. My hands felt heavy, as if I were lifting them through water. I tried to say something to Evan, but my tongue felt clumsy and the words disintegrated in my mouth.
The room became a whirlwind.
Evan rubbed his eyes and pressed himself against the table.
“Mom… I’m so sleepy…”
Julian got up too quickly. Too early. His hand rested on his son’s shoulder with a terrifying gentleness.
“I’m fine, just tired,” he said.
I already knew that wasn’t true.
Panic gripped me with a force, like a match in the dark. I tried to get up, but my legs wouldn’t hold me. The cold floor greeted me, the carpet’s fluff digging into my cheek.
And in that instant, in the brief space between consciousness and the abyss of darkness, instinct was activated. Not reason. Not logic. Something ancient, maternal, animal.
I forced my body to relax completely.
Evan collapsed beside me. His breathing slowed, but I sensed he hadn’t completely fainted
Julian’s footsteps drew closer. He stopped above me. I felt his presence on my skin, like the approach of a storm.
It lightly brushed against me with its foot. Just a test. Nothing to worry about.
“Okay…” she exhaled.
That word shattered my last hope.
She walked toward the hallway. Her voice trailed off, but in the silence of the house, the whisper was louder than a shout
She was on the phone. Calmly. Almost with relief.
The words were fragmented, but the meaning was clear. Too clear. He spoke as if discussing a matter decided long ago and finally settled.
The woman’s voice in response was tense and impatient. There was no doubt in it. Only anticipation.
The world inside me shrank to a single point: my son’s hand next to mine.
I moved my fingers slightly. Her palm responded with a gentle squeeze.
He understood. He was aware. He was waiting for me.
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