Chapter 2: The Slap
Mark stepped between us.
“Apologize to Mom.”
I stared at him. Noah was still trembling against me. Diane’s hands were empty. The carpet still held the faint impression of where an eight-month-old had been dropped.
“She threw our son on the floor.”
“He was fine. You’re overreacting again. Apologize.”
Before I could answer, he slapped me.
The contact was sharp and open-handed, hard enough to turn my head. For a split second the room went silent except for Noah’s uneven breathing. My sister’s face changed. Diane’s mouth curved into a small, satisfied expression.
I did not raise my voice.
I turned and placed Noah carefully into my sister’s arms. She took him without hesitation, already shifting her body to put herself between him and the rest of the room. Once his weight was safe, I looked at Diane.
Then I slapped her back.
May you like
The sound was clean. Diane’s head snapped to the side. The smirk vanished. Her hand flew to her cheek in pure disbelief, as if the possibility that I might return the violence had never entered her calculations.
Mark lunged.
