Mara
The banging on my door makes Lily drop her crayon.
Not a polite knock. Not a neighbor.
A fist. Hard. Angry.
“Open the f*****g door, Mara.”
Evan.
My stomach drops but my body moves fast. I step in front of Lily before she can even ask.
“Bedroom,” I tell her.
“But Mommy—”
“Now.”
She sees my face and doesn’t argue. That alone breaks something in me. Six years old and already reading danger.
The banging comes again. Louder.
“Don’t ignore me.”
I grab my phone as I walk to the door. My pulse is steady. Too steady. The kind of calm that comes right before something explodes.
I open it just enough to see him.
He looks the same. Same haircut. Same stupid confidence. Same mouth that once whispered promises and now spits entitlement.
“What the hell do you want,” I ask.
He laughs
