Love Admits Deceit

Crestwood Academy

Emma woke up before the sun had even begun to rise, the house still cloaked in darkness. She slipped quietly out of bed, moving through the familiar routine she’d perfected over the years. Her bare feet padded softly across the cold floor as she made her way to the kitchen, knowing exactly what needed to be done.

First, she began cleaning—picking up the empty bottles her father had left on the coffee table, wiping down the counters, straightening up the small living room. The house always seemed to carry an air of tension, like a storm cloud hanging over it, waiting to unleash. She worked silently, methodically, doing everything she could to keep that storm from breaking.

Once the house was tidy, she turned her attention to the kitchen. Her hands moved swiftly as she prepared breakfast, the aroma of freshly cooked eggs and toast filling the air. She knew he wouldn’t eat it—he never did—but the consequences of *not* making it were too dangerous to risk. If her father came downstairs to find the table empty, another disaster would follow, and Emma couldn’t afford that. Not today.

She placed the plate on the table, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her efforts were always in vain. It was a routine, an unspoken contract to keep the peace, no matter how fragile.

Just as she was finishing up, the soft creak of floorboards behind her made her pause. She turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, her face lined with exhaustion, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

“Emma, honey,” her mom said gently, her voice tinged with concern. “You should have woken me up. I could have helped.”

Emma shook her head, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine, Mom. You were tired.”

Her mother stepped into the kitchen, glancing nervously toward the staircase as if checking to see if her husband was anywhere nearby. When she saw that it was clear, she sighed softly and turned her attention back to Emma.

“You’re going to be late for school if you don’t hurry,” her mom said, her voice growing more urgent. She quickly moved toward the refrigerator, pulling out a few items to pack Emma’s lunch. “Go get ready. I’ll finish this.”

Emma hesitated for a moment, watching as her mom wrapped up a sandwich and tucked it neatly into a small bag. “You don’t have to—”

“Go,” her mom insisted, her eyes flicking toward the stairs again. “Before he wakes up. I’ll take care of everything.”

Reluctantly, Emma nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing. Her mother’s movements were quick and precise, her hands shaking slightly as she worked to get everything ready before her father stirred. Emma grabbed her backpack from the floor and headed toward her room to change into her school uniform.

Before she left the kitchen, her mom called after her softly, “Emma.”

Emma stopped, turning to look at her.

Her mom’s eyes softened, and she gave her a weak, tired smile. “Don’t worry about him. Just… get ready for school. You’ve got a lot ahead of you today.”

Emma nodded, a lump forming in her throat as she turned away, trying to push down the weight of her emotions. She knew her mom was trying to shield her, trying to hold everything together for both of them. But no matter how much her mother tried to protect her, the truth lingered in the air between them—this house, this life, was a trap they couldn’t escape.

As she hurriedly made her way into the bathroom slipped into her school uniform smoothing down the fabric it was a simple well worn and a little too big a Stark contrast to the crisp tailored outfit worn by other students at the school,she grabbed her bag.