Chapter 147 016
HAZEL didn’t even wait for Amelia to utter a single word.
She immediately turned on her heel and walked away, long strides sharp and purposeful, anger etched plainly across her face. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, no slammed door, no raised voice, but it was unmistakable. And Amelia saw it. The tight jaw. The stiff shoulders. The way Hazel’s back went rigid as if holding back words that could scorch.
Amelia only sighed.
The sound was tired and heavy. Like it came from somewhere far deeper than her lungs.
She didn’t call Hazel back. Didn’t even chase after her. Didn’t explain, didn’t apologize, didn’t ask her to stay. Sometimes you get to just let things be, and Amelia just did. She remained where she was, leaning against the kitchen counter, unmoving, as though her feet had taken root in the tiled floor. For a few seconds, maybe minutes, she simply stood there, staring at nothing, listening to the echo of her own thoughts crashing around her head.
Then the sound came.
The door slamming shut somewhere in the distance.
It was sharp. It was final.
That was what did it.
As though propelled by the noise, Amelia pushed herself off the counter immediately. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and walked out of the kitchen, passing through the half-open doorway and into the dining area, her steps measured but hurried.
By the time she returned, Gabriel had stopped eating. His spoon rested in his bowl, untouched, his small face calm but withdrawn. Gaddiel, on the other hand, had scraped his plate clean, nothing left but faint smears of sauce and crumbs.
“I’m full, Mommy,” Gabriel said softly, lifting his eyes to her. He placed his good hand over his stomach, the bandaged one tucked close to his side.
Amelia nodded, offering him a small smile.
“Alright, sweetheart.”
Gaddiel pushed his plate forward dramatically.
“I want water,” he announced. “Cold water.”
“Okay,” Amelia said, already reaching for the jug.
She poured water into their little plastic cups, careful not to spill, and handed them over. The boys drank quietly, Gabriel in slow, careful sips, Gaddiel in eager gulps, some of it dribbling down his chin.
As they drank, Amelia began clearing the table. She gathered the plates, stacking them neatly, her movements automatic. She carried them into the kitchen, rinsed her hands briefly, and returned to the dining room.
By the time she was back, both boys were done drinking.
“Alright,” she said gently, lifting the jug. “Time to go to your room.”
Gaddiel’s head snapped up.
“Now?” he asked, frowning. “But we are supposed to write our home-fun immediately after dinner. That is what we always do.”
Amelia paused, then shook her head.
“Not today,” she said firmly. “There will be no need for that tonight.”
“But—”
“No,” she repeated, her tone sharper now. “To your rooms. Now.”
The boys exchanged a look. Gaddiel pouted but slid off his chair anyway. Amelia moved closer to Gabriel, helping him down carefully, steadying him as his feet touched the floor.
“Take it slow,” she murmured.
Gabriel nodded and began walking down the hallway at his own pace. Gaddiel was already ahead, skipping, his earlier protest forgotten.
Amelia stood there and watched them until they disappeared from sight, until the hallway swallowed them whole and their footsteps faded away.
Only then did she pick up the cups and the jug of water.
She turned and walked back into the kitchen.
The boys reached their room quietly.
Gaddiel burst in first, hopping onto his bed with his usual energy, bouncing once, twice, before flopping onto his back. Gabriel followed more slowly, careful with every step. He climbed onto his own bed with effort, easing himself down until his head rested against the pillow. He winced faintly, then relaxed, staring up at the ceiling.
They lay side by side, beds parallel, hands folded over their bellies, the room dim except for the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the faint late evening light trying to filter in through the heavy drawn drapes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Gabe?” Gaddiel said finally, his voice smaller than usual.
“Yes?” Gabriel replied.
Gaddiel turned his head to look at his brother.
“Does your hand still hurt?”
Gabriel flexed his fingers slightly under the bandage.
“A little. But not too much now.”
“That is good,” Gaddiel said quickly. Then, after a pause, “I was scared today.”
Gabriel swallowed. “Me too.”
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
“If Daddy was closer,” Gaddiel said slowly, choosing his words the way seven-year-olds did when something felt too big, “this wouldn’t have happened.”
Gabriel turned his head toward him.
“What wouldn’t have happened?”
“You falling,” Gaddiel said. “And waiting. And everything.”
Gabriel blinked.
“You think so?”
Gaddiel nodded vigorously.
“Yes. If Daddy was any closer, he would have come fast. Like super fast. He wouldn’t let you stay in school alone. He wouldn’t let anyone forget us.”
Gabriel’s throat tightened.
“I thought Mommy would come.”
“She always comes,” Gaddiel said, then hesitated. “But today… she was busy, I guess.”
Gabriel stared at the ceiling again.
“I was sitting there,” he said softly, “and the teachers and nurse who attended to the wound all left, like they deserted me. I thought maybe I did something wrong.”
“You didn’t,” Gaddiel said immediately. “You never do wrong.”
Gabriel’s voice wobbled.
“I kept thinking Daddy would come instead. I kept looking at the gate.”
Gaddiel frowned deeply.
“I should have stayed with you there.”
“You were in class,” Gabriel said. “It is not your fault.”
“But I’m your brother,” Gaddiel insisted. “I’m supposed to protect you.”
Gabriel turned fully onto his side now.
“You do protect me.”
Gaddiel’s eyes stung.
“I was there when you fell, I saw you and I did nothing.”
Gabriel went quiet.
“I heard you cry,” Gaddiel continued, voice cracking. “And I screamed, but it was already bad. I hate that I wasn’t fast enough to hold you.”
Gabriel reached out slowly, placing his uninjured hand over Gaddiel’s.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t alone for long.”
Gaddiel sniffed.
“Still. If Daddy was closer, he would have been there before anyone else.”
Gabriel nodded.
“He would have carried me.”
“And shouted at everyone,” Gaddiel added.
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“Yeah. He would.”
They lay there, imagining it.
“Do you think Daddy knows?” Gaddiel asked.
“Mommy called him,” Gabriel said. “I heard her say his name before she went to the kitchen.”
“Oh,” Gaddiel murmured. “Then he must be angry.”
“Not at us,” Gabriel said quickly.
“Never at us,” Gaddiel agreed.
Another pause.
“I’m sorry,” Gaddiel said suddenly.
Gabriel blinked. “For what?”
“For everything,” Gaddiel said. “For not holding your back. For not watching you. For not being there.”
Gabriel squeezed his hand.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But I still feel bad,” Gaddiel whispered. “I don’t like when you get hurt.”
“I don’t like it either,” Gabriel said. “But I like that you care.”
Gaddiel smiled a little.
“I always care.”
They both stared at the ceiling again.
“I wish Daddy lived here,” Gaddiel said.
“Me too,” Gabriel replied. “Then we wouldn’t have to miss him so much.”
“And Mommy wouldn’t be tired all the time,” Gaddiel added.
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“She looks sad today.”
“I saw her sigh,” Gaddiel said. “Like when she is thinking too hard.”
They fell quiet, thoughts drifting.
Then—
Click.
The door opened softly.
Both boys turned their heads.
Hazel stepped into the room.
“Hazel!” Gaddiel screamed, leaping off the bed and running straight toward her.