Episode 7

Eli’s ears were still ringing from Claire’s slap, a sharp, stinging reminder of his own immaturity. He watched her wince, her hand flying to her swollen belly, and a wave of something akin to shame washed over him. Then, through the haze of his own frustration, he heard it – a small, reedy voice that sliced through the tension like a perfectly aimed arrow.

“My daddy and my uncle shouldn’t fight,” Uncle Silas declared, his voice surprisingly loud for his diminutive stature. He stood on a chair, a half-eaten canapé precariously balanced in his hand, his eyes wide with an earnestness that was utterly disarming. “Fighting makes my mommy sad, and she’s already got a big tummy. And besides,” he paused, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye, “Uncle Eli, you’re way better at making funny faces than Uncle Bright. You should teach me how to make the one that looks like a squashed frog!”

A ripple of laughter started, hesitant at first, then building into a full-blown roar. Even Claire managed a weak smile, her hand still pressed to her abdomen. Silas, emboldened, pointed a sticky finger at Eli. “Yeah! And Uncle Bright, you just look like a grumpy cloud all the time! Uncle Eli looks like a happy sunbeam sometimes!”