The kitchen felt colder than usual, even with the afternoon sun bleeding through the windows. You stood by the sink, hands shaking slightly as you filled a glass of water, trying to stay quiet, invisible, anything that would keep the peace.

But it never mattered.

Tom stepped into the doorway, already irritated, like just seeing you was enough to set him off.

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked. “Drinking my water now too? You don’t pay for a damn thing in this house.”

You kept your back to him, jaw tight. You knew better than to answer.

“Of course you don’t say anything,” he scoffed. “Just like your mother useless and always in the way.”

That was it. You turned to face him, hurt boiling into anger.

“Stop bringing her up like that,” you said, voice shaking. “She’s dead.”

He laughed. A low, bitter sound that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, and good riddance. At least she had the decency to go out on her own terms. Unlike you.”

You blinked, stunned. But he wasn’t done.

“You’re so goddamn pathetic. Walking around like the world owes you something,” he spat. “If you dropped dead tomorrow, I’d sleep better at night. That’s how sick of your voice I am.”

Silence fell between you like a bomb.

For a moment, all you could hear was your heartbeat—loud, fast, and broken.