April Windsor being questioned by the police today has everyone feeling anxious as she sits in that stark interview room under the harsh fluorescent lights, her hands clenched in her lap and her eyes fixed on a single spot on the table as if focusing on it could keep her from falling apart, and the silence she maintains is so unnerving that even the officers begin exchanging worried glances because they expected resistance or confusion but not this deep, heavy quiet that feels like it is weighing down the entire station, and Bob, who has been pacing outside the room for what feels like hours, finds himself growing more distressed with each passing minute because watching April so vulnerable, so fragile, and so utterly alone behind that glass panel makes him feel helpless in a way he hasn’t felt since the day she came back into his life with secrets she refused to share, and he keeps replaying every recent moment with her, every small sign he might have missed, every tremor in her voice, every distraction in her eyes, convincing himself he should have noticed something earlier, should have protected her better, should have somehow prevented her from ending up in this terrifying position, but April’s silence isn’t defiance or guilt—it’s fear, a fear so tightly wound inside her that she can barely breathe, afraid that saying the wrong thing will unleash consequences she isn’t ready to face, and while the officers try gentle prompting, sliding cups of water toward her, reminding her that staying quiet won’t help her situation, she remains frozen, her mind swirling with memories she wishes she could erase, including the shadowy figure she saw near the café the night everything changed, a detail she has convinced herself no one would believe, and meanwhile Bob keeps pressing his palms against the cool window as if he could absorb some of her pain or at least pass some comfort through the glass, wishing he could shout to her that she doesn’t have to go through this alone, that she deserves to feel safe, that whatever happened they can face it together, but regulations prevent him from entering unless she asks for him, and she hasn’t, not because she doesn’t trust him but because she doesn’t want to drag him deeper into the storm she senses is about to break over both of their lives, and outside the station word has already started to spread among villagers who gather in small clusters, whispering theories and fears, some believing April is protecting someone, others thinking she witnessed something terrible, and a few jumping to cruel conclusions that weigh on Bob even more, fueling his desperate need for answers, while inside the interview room the tension grows thicker as the lead detective leans forward, speaking softly, urging April to help them understand what led to the incident they are investigating, and April’s breathing becomes shallow, her pulse echoing in her ears as she thinks about the moment she found the discarded backpack behind the community center, the strange note inside, and the realization that someone she cares about might be in far more danger than she ever imagined, and every instinct inside her tells her to speak, to tell the truth, to hand over the fear so the adults can fix everything, but another voice whispers that doing so might put people at risk, or worse, betray a promise she made in a moment of panic, and Bob, watching her shoulders tremble through the glass, feels his heart twist because he knows that silence for April is not a weapon—it’s a shield, one she learned to raise long before today, and he can’t help but think back to the early days when she joined their family, fragile but brave, and how hard she has worked to build a life where she feels seen and heard, and now he fears all that progress could crumble under the weight of whatever secret she is holding onto so tightly, and the clock on the wall keeps ticking louder, reminding everyone that time is running out for April to make a choice, and somewhere inside her chest she feels the pressure building, the need to finally speak, to trust someone, to release the truth that has been clawing at her, but before she can decide the door opens and a new officer steps in with a folder full of evidence that changes everything, evidence tying April to a moment she didn’t cause but can’t easily explain, and Bob’s breath catches as he sees their serious faces, realizing the situation is quickly escalating, and all he can do is pray that April finds the strength to break her silence before the narrative is written without her voice, leaving her trapped in a story she never meant to be part of.