Chapter 9 - The Shift in the Room
The illusion was gone. The warmth of the golden chandelier light no longer felt luxurious; it felt exposed, glaring, and unforgiving.
The bruised boy took a slow, trembling bite of the food, chewing in silence as tears finally slipped down his dirt-streaked cheeks. Thomas pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, ignoring the horrified stares of the surrounding patrons, ignoring his mother’s shattered composure. He poured a glass of water and pushed it across the white tablecloth, a quiet gesture of solidarity that spoke louder than any court verdict or screaming match.
