“Mama,” she asked quietly, “house loud.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“Yes, baby.”
“Bad men?”
I knelt immediately and cupped her face.
“No one is allowed to hurt you.”
“Papa come?”
The question stabbed deeper than the explosions.
I forced steadiness into my tone.
“Papa is on his way.”
She nodded.
Satisfied by that answer.
Because in her world —
Papa fixed everything.
I kissed her forehead again.
“Stay inside. Don’t come out for anyone but me.”
She hugged the doll closer.
“I protect.”
The words nearly broke me.
“Mommy...”
Her small voice cracked through the chaos like a fragile thread trying to hold reality together.
“Dat loud bang-bang sound? It never stops. It’s scawy.”
My chest collapsed inward.
I grip her tiny shoulders to steady them.
The lace cuffs of her cream romper brushed my wrists as I brushed dark curls away from her face.
“Listen to me,” I whispered, keeping my voice gentle even though my heart was exploding inside my ribs. “Those loud sounds? Big strong men are outside fixing something important for us.”
Her brows furrowed.
“Fixing?”
“Yes.”
I forced a small smile.
