The house was still in shambles. Broken furniture, shattered glass, and splintered wood littered the floor, but none of that mattered to me right now. What mattered was Papa, kneeling in the middle of the wreckage, holding me and Tim so tightly it felt like he was trying to anchor himself in place, like he might drift away if he didn’t.
Tim’s breathing was shaky, but he wasn’t crying. I wasn’t either, but I wanted to. Everything inside me felt twisted up, heavy with worry and fear. I hated seeing Papa like this. He was supposed to be strong, the one who kept us safe. But now… he felt fragile. Like if we let go, he might break.
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. “We’re going to be okay,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if it was t
