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They’re soft, green, full of innocence and hope.

How did someone like him end up with a dad like ours?

“Nope,” I say, tugging the covers off and kissing his soft, curly hair. “The bus isn’t waiting for anyone, especially not you.”

He groans, but then sits up with a grumpy expression.

I practically run to the kitchen, passing Dad’s always-closed door. The anxiety hits me like a punch, but my body moves automatically. I know the routine by heart.

Keep moving. Don’t look. Don’t breathe too loudly.

Automatic pilot is on, eggs are sizzled in the small black pan, and toast is popped up. My brother, still in his pjs, climbs onto a chair, swinging his legs.

“Can I stir, Reya?” He asks, pointing at the eggs.

“Sure, but don’t make a mess."

“No worries. I’m the best stirrer, you’ll see!” He says, puffing out his chest.

I laugh and hand him the spatula.

The buzzer rings, and Milo throws the spatula back at me, running to the door, before returning with a few letters in his small hands.

“Thanks, buddy,” I say, ruffling his hair as he grins proudly. “Okay, now go get dressed and come back quickly to eat, okay?”

Milo nods and heads back to his room as I hear Dad coming down the stairs.

He even said hello to his son, the one he had always dreamed of having but never really cared for. A few seconds later, while I finish preparing breakfast, I hear the fridge open and the clink of a beer can. So, I do what I know best, stay quiet and slip past him with the mail.

I just need to keep breathing and not let him know I’m scared.

He doesn’t say anything, no hello, no look. The only time he glances at me, the rejection and disgust in his eyes says it all.

“I won’t be here this week either, I have the boat until Saturday morning. When I get back, I’ll bring a friend or two. You’ll make dinner like usual.”

My hands freeze in the air before even putting the plates on the table. His friends.

“I’ll leave the little one at Edna's,” I say a few seconds later.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't see this.

Just keep him safe. That’s all that matters.

Milo comes back down, all dressed up, happy as always with a big smile on his face and sits to eat without sensing how tense things are.

“I’ll take you to school today, firefly,” I say, as he finishes his food.

“But I thought I was taking the bus."

I wipe my hands on my pants, grab the keys, and go back upstairs for my phone and bag. “Changed my mind, you’re coming with me,” I yell as I walk away.

“Okay, sissy.”

I can’t breathe.

My throat tightens as I walk down the hallway, but I keep moving. I hate that I have to do this, that he can still make me afraid. Because I know exactly what will happen if I fight back. I won’t be the one who pays for it. Milo will.

Breathe, please. Breathe.