The silence between

Isabel’s POV

My gaze drifts to the door just as it creaks open again, and Mom walks in slowly, her footsteps quieter than usual. She left just minutes ago, practically rushed out of here after taking a call. But the woman stepping back in now looks… different. There’s a heaviness in the way her shoulders slump, a shadow swimming in her eyes, like her thoughts are still far away, tethered to something she hasn’t said yet.

She closes the door behind her gently, as if afraid that even the sound might break whatever thin thread she’s holding onto. I watch her closely, and our eyes lock. Her mouth forms a faint smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.

“Is anything the problem, Mom?” I ask softly, my voice steady despite the way my chest tightens.

She nods before she even answers, like the truth slipped out faster than she intended. “No… nothing’s wrong, dear,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m just… thinking about everything.”<