The tension did not arrive all at once.

It collected in small, ordinary moments until the air in the house felt heavier every time Elena and Victoria occupied the same room.

Saturday morning Elena came downstairs to find Victoria already at the kitchen island with a second mug of coffee waiting, untouched, in the place Elena usually sat. Rosa had come and gone early; the counters still smelled faintly of lemon. Marcus had left for a short errand that felt timed, deliberate. The kitchen belonged to the two of them.

Victoria looked up when Elena entered. Her expression was calm, but the calm sat too carefully on her face.

“Sit...