We're The Hansleys

It was late night. A five-year-old girl wearing a pajama is still at the living room, staring at a window. Not because of the stars outside, but because she's waiting for her parents to come home. They always make sure to put her to bed, despite how busy they are in their work. "Sheila…" Harry, their family butler, said, his voice tinged with concern. "Your mother won't put you to bed anymore." "Only daddy?" She questioned, puzzled “Yes, sweetie.” Harry answered “But why?" Harry didn't answer. He couldn't. How could he tell Sheila that her mother is gone? However, silence didn't stay long as they heard a car engine, heralding Alexander’s arrival. Sheila’s father. When he entered the house, he was simmering with rage. Still, Harry walked to him to greet him, but he started ranting before he could even be greeted. “They killed her, Harry. They killed my wife!" “Sir-“ “And what makes it worse is that the cops aren't listening to me! They're already convinced that it was an accident!" “Sir!” “And now you're also not listening to me!" Instead of saying anything, Harry simply turned to Sheila, who’s tears are now falling from the words that she had just heard. Alexander became mute, oblivious to the presence of his daughter. He didn’t want her to know this way. “M-Mommy is d-dead?” She asked, her voice cracking slightly “Sheila.” Alexander said calmly He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded slowly. Sheila broke down. His tears then also began to pour as he approached his daughter and hugged her. "I'm so sorry I let this happen." He sobbed And that night, everything changed.