Cracks Beneath The Surface
701 Words
Emma was gone. Just like that.
Esha stood by the window that night, staring into the darkness, praying her little sister wouldn’t forget her. That somewhere, in that big strange house, Emma would still remember the warmth of their bond.
Meanwhile, Emma’s new life had just begun.
“This is your new home, sweetheart,” Mrs. Mera said with a bright smile as the mansion’s towering gates closed behind them. “Let me show you around.”
The marble floors echoed under their feet. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and gold-rimmed portraits of people Emma didn’t recognize stared back at her from the walls. Mrs. Mera led her to a spacious room with a pink canopy bed, stuffed toys, and walls painted like a fairy tale.
“Feel free, my princess. This is all yours now.”
“Food is ready,” called a voice from the kitchen—Mrs. Mera’s personal chef.
The dining table was already set when they arrived. Each family member sat at their designated place, their eyes silently tracking the newcomer.
Mrs. Mera cleared her throat. “Everyone… meet Emma, the newest member of our family.”
She waited. Silence.
“Well?” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “Won’t you welcome her?”
“Welcome, dear…” came the stiff, half-hearted greetings.
“That’s all?” she shouted. “Should we offer a sacrifice to the gods while we're at it?!”
Her husband, Mr. Mera, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Why not throw a feast for the whole city too? Or better yet, crown her Queen of the House?”
“I knew it,” Mrs. Mera muttered bitterly. “Nothing good ever comes out of that mouth.”
Turning back to Emma, she smiled sweetly. “Don’t mind them, my darling. They’ll come around.”
Just then, her youngest son spoke up.
“Samath! Samath!” she called.
“Stop screaming my name like that!” snapped the six-year-old.
Mrs. Mera’s expression darkened. “Have you forgotten the values we taught you? Show some respect for your elders before I remind you how.”
“I don’t have to like a stranger just because you do!” he shouted. “I hate her!”
He stormed away from the table and slammed his door shut upstairs.
Emma flinched. Her tiny fingers clutched the hem of her dress.
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Mera said, gently patting Emma’s head. “He’s just tired… stressed… he didn’t mean it.”
But the tension only deepened.
“What’s all this chaos?” Mr. Mera muttered. “First, you adopt a girl behind everyone’s back, then you expect Samath to suddenly accept her? You’ve crossed the line.”
Mrs. Mera’s face hardened. “Why should I inform a family that doesn’t care about what makes me happy? Adopting a child isn’t a crime. She’s my little princess. Can’t you be happy that I finally got the daughter I’ve always dreamed of?”
Aya Mera, her teenage niece, scoffed. “Blah, blah, blah… Stop hiding behind sweet words. If you wanted a daughter, you should’ve said so. You’re not barren—or are you? If there’s a problem, speak up. Every problem has a solution. What you’re doing now is selfish.”
“You insolent brat! Watch your tongue!” Mrs. Mera snapped, rising from her chair.
“Or what?” Aya challenged, standing to her feet. “Or what?!”
Smack.
The sound of a slap echoed through the hall.
Silence.
Then a voice, stern and commanding, cut through the air.
“Enough!” barked Mrs. Nina Mera, the family’s oldest member. Her silver hair glistened under the chandelier. “We are still a family. Age does not define respect. Unity and peace do.”
She looked around the table, her eyes sharp.
“Any issues will be discussed later—calmly. For now, eat. And remember who you are.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence. The food on the table had long gone cold, but the bitterness hanging in the air had only just begun to simmer.
Somewhere deep in the mansion, Emma curled up in her new bed… and cried.
- Writer
