Chapter 4 — Fault Lines

Third Person

The Leandro family home was steeped in a heavy, oppressive quiet—the kind that didn’t soothe but stifled, curling into every corner of the space. The faint ticking of the kitchen clock was a metronome to the tension, marking seconds that no one seemed to know how to fill. The scent of strong coffee lingered, mingling with the faint floral note drifting in from Elena’s meticulously maintained garden through the open window. Above the counter, a family photo—one of the rare moments of joy captured before the accident—rested in its frame, a silent witness to the charged silence.