Viona's POV
Reece watched me with wide, unblinking eyes like a tiny detective interrogating a suspect in a cold case. Every second of silence between us felt like a ticking bomb. Do I like him?
My stomach acid rose, burning a path up my chest. The truth was a messy thing; I realized then that I had never truly hated Rafael. But was the absence of hate the same thing as liking him?
I forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach my stinging eyes. "Of course Mommy likes him, Reece. I've always told you your father is a Superman, right? He saves many people. How could I not like someone like that?"
Reece averted his eyes. His head dropped.
I let go of his hand. I didn't want him to feel caged.
His small fingers twitched—a restless, phantom urge to play his Rubik's cube—but he stayed still. His chest rose and fell in jagged, heavy heaves.
He was drowning in thoughts he couldn't name.
Did my words reach him? Or was he dismantling the lie?
