The next few days were a masterclass in agony. To my mother, we were the picture of a perfect family. To Silas, I was a fragile bird with broken wings. To Lucas, I was a liar who had just tried to escape him.
The tension didn't vanish; it just changed shape. It became a humming current that ran through the walls, making the air feel thick and electric.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay, sweetheart?" Cassie asked during dinner, her voice brimming with a mother's genuine concern. She reached over and squeezed my hand. "You've been so quiet since the weekend."
I looked up, my eyes wide and slightly misty, the perfect image of a girl haunted by trauma. "I'm okay, Mom. Just... trying to focus on my summer reading."
"She's just tired, Cassie," Silas intervened, his voice low and protective.
