Silent thorns

Ashland, Ohio, was bathed in the twilight of late autumn. Warm yellow lights shone from the Cole family mansion, yet couldn't dispel the stagnant atmosphere around the dining table. Isabella Wright placed the last plate of roasted vegetables on the table, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the edge of her apron—an old item left by her ex-husband, the fabric worn but carrying a comforting familiarity. "The soup is too salty," Agnes Cole said, setting down her silver spoon. The clinking of the porcelain bowl against the table broke the brief silence. Her gaze swept past Isabella, finally settling on the little girl gesturing in sign language at the table. Her brow furrowed. "Eat properly. What's with all this gesturing?" That was Lena, Isabella's six-year-old daughter. Hearing her grandmother's words, Lena's slender fingers paused in midair. She timidly looked up at her mother, her clear eyes filled with unease. Isabella quickly reached out and gently took her daughter's slightly cool hand, mouthing "It's okay," then turned to Agnes with a meek smile. "Sorry, Mom, I'll be more careful next time. Lena just wanted to tell me she liked today's bread." "Liking something doesn't mean you should make a scene at the table," Agnes scoffed, turning her gaze to her son, Marcus, her tone softening instantly. "Marcus, next week at the family gathering, you'd better have a good talk with your dad about the company. Don't let those unimportant people distract you." She glanced meaningfully at Isabella. "Our Cole family needs a healthy child to maintain its image sooner or later. By the way, you've been going to that vacation cottage in the suburbs a lot lately, is it about the company?" Isabella's grip on Lena's hand tightened, her fingertips turning white. She could feel Carl Cole's scrutinizing gaze across from her, a gaze that felt like needles pricking her. A year ago, when she remarried Marcus to Lena, she never imagined that "a healthy child" would become a perpetual topic of discussion in this family. Her ex-husband had died in a car accident six months prior. The out-of-control truck shattered her life and her confidence in raising Lena alone. Marcus's appearance was like a ray of light. He would do puzzles with Lena, pick her up from school when she worked late, and gently say, "I'll take care of you and your daughter." It was this gentleness that gave her the courage to enter her second marriage. "Yeah, just finishing up some project stuff," Marcus replied perfunctorily, his fingertips flicking off his vibrating phone under the table. For a fleeting moment, Isabella caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar female profile picture on the screen, but he quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up. "I have to go to the company." "Going so late?" Isabella asked instinctively, immediately regretting the words. Marcus glanced at her, his eyes devoid of their usual gentleness, only filled with indifference: "You don't understand company matters, don't ask." He didn't look at Lena again, heading straight for the entryway. A colorful candy wrapper fell from his coat pocket, glaringly conspicuous on the carpet. Isabella wanted to remind him, but was interrupted by Agnes' cough, and could only watch helplessly as he closed the door, the heavy sound landing on Isabella's heart. Only the three of them remained at the dining table, a silence descending once more. Lena cautiously tugged at Isabella's sleeve, gesturing in sign language, "Mommy, I want to sleep." Isabella suppressed the bitterness in her heart, bent down to pick up her daughter, and picked up the candy wrapper as she passed the entryway—it wasn't the brand she and Lena usually ate; the cloying fruity scent was somewhat similar to the unfamiliar smell that had occasionally clung to Marcus lately. She frowned, casually stuffing the wrapping paper into her apron pocket, and said softly, "Okay, Mommy will take you to bed." Passing through the living room, she caught a glimpse of Karl muttering to Agnes, "I told you I shouldn't have let him marry this woman with a child; she can't even produce a decent heir… The project payment in the west of the city is still late, and he's never home. I hope nothing goes wrong." His voice wasn't loud, but every word pierced Isabella's ears. She paused, tightened her grip on Lina's arm, and hurried upstairs. In the bedroom, Isabella had lulled Lina to sleep. Sitting by the bed, watching her daughter's peaceful sleeping face, tears finally streamed down her face. The horrific scene of her ex-husband's car accident flashed through her mind; she had vowed then to protect Lina with everything she had. But now, this home she thought would shelter her from the storm had plunged her and her daughter into even deeper unease. The candy wrappers in her pocket made her palms ache. Marcus's aloofness, her in-laws' complaints, the inexplicable holiday cabin and project payments—all these things spread through her mind like a fog. She gently stroked Lena's soft hair, silently saying in her heart: Lena, Mom will make sure you're alright, she will.