Sophia’s P.O.V

The next morning, the air in the car feels so heavy I can barely breathe. The kids are unusually quiet, which should be a relief, but it only makes the silence more unbearable. Sara is staring out the window, her little fingers picking at the edge of her backpack strap, while Tara hums softly to herself, that nervous little tune she does when she knows I’m upset but doesn’t know why.

“Seatbelts on?” I ask, my voice tight.

“Yes, Mom,” they both ...