PART 1 — The Silence After the Clippers
The moment I pulled Elara into my arms, the world narrowed to her shaking breath against my chest.
Her fingers clutched my shirt like it was the only solid thing left in her reality.
I didn’t look at Selene right away.
I couldn’t trust what I would do if I did.
Behind me, I heard her chair scrape lightly.
Unbothered.
Like this was just another uncomfortable family moment she would outlive without consequence.
Elara whispered again, smaller this time.
“I said no… Daddy… I told her I didn’t want it…”
That broke something deeper than rage.
It clarified it.
I finally looked up.
Selene stood near the couch, arms folded, watching me like I had interrupted her afternoon.
Her daughters still giggled softly behind her.
One of them twirled a strand of Elara’s cut hair between her fingers like it was a toy.
I spoke quietly.
“What did you do to my daughter?”
Selene exhaled through her nose.
“Oh, don’t start that tone.”
I shifted Elara behind me instinctively.
Selene tilted her head.
“She was being dramatic. Kids get attached to hair. I fixed it.”
“Fixed it.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “She was being spoiled. That hair was ridiculous anyway. She looked like she thought she was better than everyone.”
I stared at her.
Waiting for any sign she understood what she had done.
There wasn’t one.
Behind me, Elara made a small sound—like she was trying not to cry again.
That was when Selene added, almost casually:
“You’re welcome.”
Something in me went completely still.
Not anger.
Not panic.
Control.
Cold, precise control.
I picked Elara up without looking away from Selene.
“Put her things in a bag,” I said.
Selene scoffed.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
For the first time, her expression flickered.
Not fear.
Annoyance.
Like I was being inconvenient.
“You’re seriously acting like I hurt her. She’ll get over it.”
I finally turned toward her fully.
And said nothing.
Because anything I said next would not be reversible.
May you like
I walked out.
And I didn’t look back.
