Chapter 16
Even when your heart is shattering in slow motion.
The sound of clinking cutlery barely echoed in the quiet of the dining room, and I could feel their eyes on me–curious, worried, almost too perceptive for their young age. I kept my head down, pretending to be focused on the half–eaten mashed potatoes on my plate. My cheek still burned faintly, a dull ache that pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I had tried to cover it with some makeup, but kids… they always notice what you want to hide most.
“Mommy,” Tara’s voice, small and uncertain, cut through the silence. “What happened to your face?”
My fork froze mid–air. I blinked quickly and looked up, offering a shaky smile I hoped looked more convincing than it felt. Across the table, Tara stared at me with furrowed brows, her spoon hanging loosely in her hand. My heart stuttered at the worry in her young eyes–my twins, only five, but they already knew too much about pain and silence.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” I said softly, my voice catching slightly before I cleared my throat. “Just a little accident in the kitchen.”
“But it’s red,” Sara whispered, her lower lip trembling. “Like someone hurt you…”
1 forced out a chuckle, though my hands had gone cold. “I bumped into the cupboard. Mommy’s just being clumsy again.”
Tara didn’t look convinced. “You’ve never done that before.”
My breath hitched. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” I tried to keep the tone light, cheerful even, but the weight in my chest was growing heavier with every lie I uttered. “I’m okay, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
I reached across the table and cupped Tara’s tiny hand, then glanced at Sara with a firm smile I didn’t feel. “Promise me you’ll both finish your dinner. We’ll read stories before bed, okay?”
They nodded slowly, though their eyes never really left my face.
Later that night, the house had finally quieted down. The only sounds were the soft hum of the AC and the gentle rustle of the sheets as my daughters shifted in their sleep. I lay on the bed, sandwiched between them, their small bodies curled up against me like little puzzle pieces fitting perfectly into my arms.
Their breaths were slow and even, warm against my skin. Sara’s fingers clutched at the hem of my shirt even in her dreams, as if afraid I’d disappear. And Tara had left the nightlight on again, probably sensing something she couldn’t name but felt deep in her little soul.
1 held them tighter.
That was when the first tear slipped down my cheek.
Silently, I let the dam break.
Tears flowed freely now, soaking into the pillow, running down my nose, pooling under my chin. I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let them wake up and see me like this–falling apart when I needed to be their anchor. But inside, everything hurt. Everything burned.
The image of Tristan loomed in my mind like a storm cloud on the horizon. Monday. Just two more days. Two days until the man who had once vowed to protect me would walk back through that door with his empty promises and chilling gaze. The way he’d grabbed me, the slap that had sent me stumbling to the living room floor, the way he whispered hurtful words while the kids were upstairs–it all replayed like a broken film reel in my mind.
I was terrified.
Terrified of what he would do next. Terrified of what would happen when he came back. Will he be the same Tristan that I had known and loved all along? Will he come back and apologize for his mistake, just like he always did? Or will he come back as someone I didn’t even recognize anymore. Thoughts swirled, insecurities deepened, and the tears came harder.
And yet, here in the darkness, all I could do was hold them closer and cry in silence.
Because they were my light. My reason. My breath.
And even if I was breaking, I would never let them see it. Not yet. Not until I found a way to confirm that everything was going to go back to how it all used to be. Not until I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that I could keep them safe.
