Chapter 3: Don’t Even Border Coming Back
Mrs. Winslow's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't expected her husband to be standing there, his figure looming at the top of the staircase. Panic flashed through her mind—how could she possibly explain why she had slapped Lilia? The flickering light from the chandelier cast long shadows across his face, making his sharp gaze even more intimidating.
"Why are your cheeks red, Lilia?" he asked, his voice steady, firm, and commanding.
Lilia flinched at the question, her body trembling as she instinctively raised a hand to cover her reddened cheek. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of her parents fighting—especially not in the dead of night. Her breathing quickened as her father's heavy steps echoed in the silence, each one like a judge's gavel descending with finality.
"It's nothing, Dad," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking under the weight of her fear.
"Don't lie to me." He began to descend the stairs, his footsteps slow but deliberate, the tension in the air growing thicker with every step. Lilia's fingers gripped the fabric of her nightgown tightly as though it could shield her from the inevitable confrontation.
Mrs. Winslow paled visibly, her breath catching in her throat as her husband's piercing eyes shifted to her. For a moment, she felt trapped, unable to form an excuse or deflect his attention.
"Rena," he said at last, his voice low and controlled, though the tension in it was unmistakable. "Did you slap her?"
"I... I..." Mrs. Winslow stammered, her words faltering as she glanced at Lilia, hoping her daughter would take the cue and provide a distraction.
"Dad, no!" Lilia interrupted quickly, desperation coloring her tone. "Mum didn't slap me. I... I scratched my cheek on the door." She lied immediately.