A small figure stood frozen in the doorway, half-silhouetted by the fading afternoon light. Sandy hair hung in a tangled curtain around her pale face, and exhaustion sat heavy in her eyes.
Clara.
Her gaze swept the kitchen—Luke, the half-eaten sandwich, the hushed tension thick in the air. Her shoulders stiffened like she’d walked into a room she wasn’t supposed to enter.
Amayah softened instantly. “Clara, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”
Clara didn’t move. Her eyes flicked to Eli as if waiting for permission that never came.
“What’s going on?” Clara asked. “Everyone is at home except you. I was worried.”
Eli’s eyes narrowed before he warned his sister, “Don’t answer any questions. She don’t need to know.”
Amayah clenched her jaw, wanting to rebuke his words. Instead, she tried to rely on patience.
Clara’s fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve. Her lip trembled as she tried not to look at either of them.
“We just want to help,” Amayah said, heart aching as she stepped slightly closer. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”
Clara’s eyes filled with moisture. She looked back at Eli—once more, just once—and his bravado crumbled.
A single tear slid silently down his cheek.
In that fragile moment, Amayah understood something that had become painfully clear.
Whatever their mother had promised . . .
Whatever Eli had tried to believe . . .
These children had been afraid for a very long time.
His sister moved closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“She left,” the girl whispered.
Eli closed his eyes.
His voice broke as the truth finally fell. “Two weeks ago. She said she was coming back. She never did.”
The silence that followed felt heavy as snowfall.
Luke’s throat tightened as he comprehended everything that was happening. “You can trust us. We’re not here to split you up.”
Eli raised his chin stubbornly. “You can’t let social services come.”
Amayah reached out, her hand barely brushing his as if asking permission. “Eli, that’s a lot of responsibility for a twelve-year-old.”
His voice trembled now, but he didn’t look away. “You don’t understand. They’ll split us apart. Maisie can’t sleep withoutClara. And Jonah sleepwalks. He wakes up cryin’ if no one’s there. And Benji won’t eat unless someone sits with him.”
Luke glanced toward Amayah.
Pain mirrored pain.
They both understood the truth, clear as winter air.
Whatever happened next . . . they had to proceed carefully.
Because this wasn’t just about broken rules or missing Christmas trees.
