Ela stepped forward, shielding Zius behind her with one arm. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with the effort of holding back everything she wanted to scream.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
For the first time, Mira did not answer immediately. Her face flickered—one heartbeat of blankness, as if her mind were deciding which mask to put on. Then she gave a soft, airy laugh.
"I wasn't doing anything," she insisted. "We were just playing. Isn't that right, Zius?"
Her gaze slid toward him like a blade.
Zius flinched.
Ela's stomach twisted. A moment ago she had wanted to believe her—wanted to cling to the idea that maybe she had imagined everything… that maybe Mira was telling the truth.
But Zius's red, swollen eyes, the trembling in his hands, the faint mark beginning to rise on his arm—those were things Mira couldn't hide.
"No," Ela whispered, straightening. "If it had been your brother… would you 'play' with him like this?"
The question hung in the air like a strike.
Mira froze.
Just for a breath—but it was enough. Enough for Ela to see the crack in her composure. The way her jaw tightened. The way her nostrils flared like she'd been caught.
Then Mira laughed.
A quick, brittle sound, too loud for the tiny room. She covered her mouth with her hand as if embarrassed, trying to smooth over the moment—trying to pretend nothing had slipped.
"You're so dramatic," she said, forcing a smile. "Honestly, Ela… you make everything sound like a tragedy."
But the laughter didn't reach her eyes.
And Ela knew—deep in her tightening chest—that she had just seen Mira's mask slip for the very first time.