The accusations came fast and unrelenting, each one a hammer blow against my character.
Even Rowan, my frail and quiet son, found his voice. He stood trembling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Tears streamed down his pale face as he screamed, "I hate you! A man like you is not my father!"
Before anyone could stop him, Rowan spun on his heels and dashed toward the nearby window. His thin frame, so often hunched under the weight of fear and pain, now moved with alarming speed.
"Rowan, no!" Hana shrieked, her voice breaking with desperation.
But it was too late. Rowan threw himself through the open window, the sound of shattering glass cutting through the din like a knife. The collective gasp that followed seemed to suck the air out of the room.
A sickening thud echoed from below.
The hall descended into stunned silence. For a moment, time itself seemed to freeze. Then, chaos erupted. Relatives rushed toward the window, their faces contorted in shock and horror.
Hana stood paralyzed, her body trembling uncontrollably. Then, with a guttural cry that tore through the air, she broke free from her stupor and bolted for the stairs.