The silence that followed the question was heavy.
Not the respectful kind of silence—it was the silence of those who never had an answer for it. The children exchanged uneasy glances. Some needed to clench their fists. Others pulled their elbows close to their bodies, as if trying to occupy less space in the world.
The oldest swallowed hard.
"We…" he began, but his voice failed. I cleared my throat and tried again. "We can't afford it."
Daniela held their gaze, unhurried.
"I know," she replied. "That wasn't a rhetorical question. It was a statement of fact."
She uncrossed her legs and climbed up from the table, walking slowly ahead of them. Each step was calculated so as not to rise up as a threat… and yet, it was impossible to ignore her presence.
"How many of you are there really?" she said. "Not here. Not all of you."
There was hesitation.
Cassandra tilted her head, smiling slightly.
