Sophie glanced toward the hallway as though she thought someone might be listening.
Then she went silent.
I stayed where I was.
I didn’t rush her.
I didn’t touch her again.
Finally, she spoke.
“Mom got mad.”
Her small hands were still twisting the bottom of her pajama shirt.
“I spilled juice. She said I did it on purpose.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Then Sophie said the words no parent is ever ready to hear.
“She pushed me… and my back hit the door handle.”
She stopped for a moment.
“I couldn’t breathe.”
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“I thought… I was going to disappear.”
For a second, I stopped breathing.
Not because I didn’t understand.
Because I understood perfectly.
Everything in the house suddenly felt different.
The walls.
The silence.
The air.
I had walked in expecting a normal night.
