The room became silent even as Luca's expression became calm only in contrast to Elisa, who also had a stunned expression on her face, to have seen their father treat their mother like that.
Luca was an extremely calm and soft-spoken man. He was gentle in speaking, and even when he got angry, never had it come close to the manic fury they had both seen and could no longer unsee. The image of him, his face red with rage, voice trembling as he yelled, was not something easily erased. It had been raw, violent, and for the first time, truly frightening.
Elisa was stuck in her wheelchair, her hands gripping the sides of the metal frame tightly, her knuckles pale against the steel. Dora, on the other hand, could not bring herself to sit. She stood still for a while, her eyes flicking between Maria, who was now quietly weeping into her pillow, and Luca, who had his hand pressed against his temple as if fighting to regain control of himself.
