The house was quiet, but not the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the silence of a home that had seen too many arguments, too many tears, and too many doors slammed shut. Every room seemed to hold a memory, a whisper of laughter that had long faded, replaced by tense sighs and quiet resentment.

Anna, just 10 years old, would sit on her bed every night, hugging her pillow tight, wishing for the fights to stop. Her little brother, Max, only 6, would come to her room in the middle of the night, his small body shivering with the fear he couldn’t quite put into words. 🧸 Anna would wrap her arms around him, hoping to give him some of the comfort she herself was desperately searching for. But how could she, when their once warm, safe home now felt like a place they needed to tiptoe around?

Their parents, Mark and Sarah, once laughed together, cooked dinners side by side, and held hands in front of the children. But now, they barely looked at each other. Their words to one another were sharp, clipped, like knives. Every argument chipped away at the family’s foundation, creating cracks that no one knew how to mend. 💔

Anna remembered her parents used to tuck them in every night, telling them bedtime stories and filling their dreams with happy, hopeful tales. But now, bedtime felt lonely, with only a quick “goodnight” from their mom as she went back to the living room, where their dad sat staring at the TV, lost in his own thoughts.

School became Anna’s only refuge. There, she could pretend everything was okay, laugh with her friends, and forget about the tension at home, if only for a little while. But Max wasn’t as lucky. He began to draw sad pictures at school — scribbled images of homes split in two, of people with big, sad eyes. His teachers noticed, but no one knew how to help. 🎨

One evening, as the parents’ voices raised again, Anna couldn’t take it anymore. She took Max’s hand and they ran to their room, burying themselves under the covers, whispering promises to each other that they would never grow up to be like their parents. She told Max that one day, they’d have their own homes, full of laughter and love, where no one yelled, where doors didn’t slam. 🌧️

But despite her brave words, Anna felt broken. She was too young to bear the weight of dreams that big, yet there was no one else to turn to. She longed for a hug from her mom, for her dad’s strong arms lifting her up, for the family dinners they no longer had. She wished for a time machine, a way to go back to the days when their family was whole, when laughter echoed in the hallways.

Their hearts might heal in time, but for now, Anna and Max learned to survive by holding onto each other. They would find a way to build something beautiful from the broken pieces. 🧩