Maria:
My mother is still looking at me like I’ve just said something unforgivable.
The room feels smaller than it did a minute ago. Or maybe it’s just the way she’s standing, like she’s waiting for me to correct myself. Like I’ll suddenly laugh and say I didn’t mean it. The lamp on the side table casts a warm pool of light across the floor between us.
I don’t.
“I said no,” I repeat, quieter this time, but steadier.
No one moves.
My father shifts slightly near the door, not stepping in yet, just watching. My mother exhales through her nose, slow, controlled, the way she does when she’s trying not to say too much and failing anyway. The sound is soft but sharp in the quiet room.
“Why?” she asks.
Not gently. Not angrily either. Just… sharp.
I let out a small breath, rubbing my finge
