“Relax,” she said. “It’s just a burn. We don’t need to make a scene.”
I looked up at her, disbelief settling in.
“He needs medical attention. Now.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. Dad’s here. He can handle it.”
Her father was already walking over, drawn by the noise. Uniform crisp, presence commanding—the kind of man people instinctively listened to.
He took one look at Eli, then at me.
“What’s going on?”
“Minor accident,” Lisa said quickly. “She’s blowing it out of proportion.”
“It’s not minor,” I said, my voice controlled but firm. “We need paramedics.”
He hesitated. Not because he didn’t understand—but because Lisa had already framed the situation.
“She’s right,” Lisa added, louder now. “You always do this. Everything has to be dramatic.”
That was it.
I stood up slowly, still holding Eli close.
“This isn’t about you,” I said. “Move.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to make it personal.
“You don’t get to come into my family and start giving orders like you’re somebody important,” she said. “You’re not.”
Family
Behind her, her father shifted uncomfortably, caught between authority and assumption.
I met his eyes.
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