Jeffrey sat alone in the dimly lit room, his body rigid and tense. His thoughts whirled in a chaotic storm, too tangled for him to make sense of anything. He kept replaying the confrontation with his children over and over, and every time he heard his own voice—cold, angry, harsh—he winced inwardly. The look on Sarah’s face, the confusion and hurt in Tim’s eyes, haunted him.
They were only trying to make sense of things. They were mourning too. But he couldn’t take it—he couldn’t stand their questions, their judgment. His world had been flipped upside down ever since Kenneth’s death, and now Hannah’s presence only confused him more. The lines between what he felt, what he knew, and what he feared were blurring, and his children had only made it harder to breathe.
Guilt gnawed at him, but
