The moment Ezekiel lifted his cup for another sip, the atmosphere in the living room thinned into something delicate and almost fragile. The conversation had drifted into a quieter space, but tension still lingered like a second heartbeat beneath everything.

Ezekiel’s gaze eventually drifted toward Marga again, the faintest crease forming between his brows. “Marga,” he said in a calm and almost gentle tone he rarely used with anyone, “how was school this week?”

My pulse jumped.

Of ...