"Frightened?" I stood, voice sharp. "She's thirty! A bulb change terrifies her? No flashlight? Can't use her phone light? Wake up, Mark! It's not the bulb! She'll invent any excuse to pull you close! Will you even return tonight? Or hold her again till she 'settles' asleep?" Years of suppressed emotion exploded.
Shattered Serenity
"Must you cause a scene!" Mark snapped, voice thick with frustration. "It's a blasted bulb! Simple! She's my sister! Am I to leave her trembling in the dark? Be rational!" He snatched car keys, yanked the door open. "Back soon!" It slammed behind him. Alone with hollow TV laughter, the supermarket warmth vanished, replaced by ice.
The Long Night
He didn't return. I called thrice. First ring, unanswered. Second, he picked—background silence, voice hushed: "Asleep; I'll come once she's stable. Sleep." Third call, dead phone. On the couch, I watched night shift from ink-black to ashen gray, then pallid dawn. Only one truth remained: Sophie's bathroom bulb was likely broken.
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