Chapter 1 - The Third Morning
Three days before the emergency room confrontation, Sarah Bennett stood outside Emily’s bedroom with a bowl of soup growing cold in her hands.
“Emily?”
There was no answer.
Sarah knocked again.
“I’m coming in.”
The curtains were closed even though it was nearly noon. Emily lay beneath a blanket, curled toward the wall. Her gray hoodie was pulled over her hospital-style sleep shirt, and her cracked phone rested beneath one hand.
Sarah placed the soup on the desk.
“You’re still feeling sick?”
Emily nodded without turning around.
“Where does it hurt?”
“My stomach.”
“Is it sharp? Is it constant?”
“I don’t know.”
Sarah sat on the edge of the bed. “We should call the doctor.”
Emily turned quickly.
“No.”
The fear in her voice was so strong that Sarah froze.
“It may only be a stomach infection,” Sarah said gently. “But you’ve missed two days of school, and you barely ate yesterday.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You said that yesterday.”
Emily pulled the blanket higher.
Sarah studied her daughter’s face. Emily had always been private, but this was different. Her eyes looked tired. She seemed to be listening for something beyond the bedroom door.
Downstairs, a cabinet closed.
Emily’s shoulders tightened.
Michael appeared in the hallway a moment later.
He leaned against the doorframe. “Still performing?”
Sarah frowned. “She’s sick.”
“She has a science presentation today.”
“I emailed the school.”
“You should have asked me first.”
Sarah stood. “Why would I need permission to tell the school our daughter is ill?”
Michael smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes.
“Because every time you rescue her from responsibility, she learns to manipulate you.”
Emily stared at the wall.
Sarah picked up the soup again. “She needs rest.”
Michael stepped into the room.
Emily immediately sat up.
“I said she needs rest,” Sarah repeated.
“I heard you.”
He looked down at Emily.
“You were fine on Monday.”
Emily’s hand closed around her phone.
Michael noticed.
“What are you holding?”
“Nothing.”
“Give it to me.”
Sarah moved between them. “Why?”
“Because she’s been spending all night on that phone. That’s probably why she feels sick.”
“I wasn’t,” Emily whispered.
Michael held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Emily pressed it against her chest.
Sarah had seen disagreements between them before. Michael believed in strict rules. Emily resisted them. Sarah often acted as the peacekeeper, telling herself that both of them were stubborn and that the arguments would pass.
This time, however, she saw something that made her skin turn cold.
Emily was not angry.
She was terrified.
“I’ll keep the phone,” Sarah said.
Michael looked at his wife.
For one second, the polite mask vanished.
Then he laughed.
“Fine. You deal with her.”
He left the room.
Emily waited until his footsteps faded down the stairs.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can you lock the door?”
Sarah glanced toward the hallway. “Why?”
Emily looked down.
“I just want to sleep.”
Sarah closed the door and turned the lock.
When she faced the bed again, Emily was crying silently.
Sarah sat beside her.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily, look at me.”
The girl wiped her face with her sleeve.
“I feel sick. That’s all.”
Sarah wanted to believe her.
Believing her would have been easier than questioning everything she thought she knew about her husband.
But as she tucked the blanket around Emily, she noticed a small red mark near her daughter’s wrist.
Emily quickly pulled her sleeve down.
May you like
Sarah said nothing.
Not yet.
