Silence fell.
I held her hands—they were cold.
“How long?” I asked, my voice breaking. “How long has this been happening?”
She lowered her gaze.
“It’s nothing… they’re just tired. Your sister had exams, your mom’s back hurts… I don’t mind helping.”
Helping?
I looked at the sink again.
This wasn’t help.
This was neglect.
“Clara… look at yourself,” I said. “You’re eight months pregnant. You shouldn’t even be standing here.”
“Please don’t be upset with them,” she whispered. “They’re your family.”
I swallowed hard.
