The Capozzi Family: Nikki #1

The safe room goes quiet again, softer now than before. Faith stays close on the couch, shoulder angled toward Nikki, while Vincenzo stands near the table and watches the powered-off phone like it might start talking on its own.

Faith reaches over, slow and careful, and settles her hand near Nikki's knee, steady rather than clingy. Vincenzo drags a hand over his face, jaw tight, then lets it fall.

Neither of them argues. The forced-open door stays in the background, forgotten for a beat, while the room settles around three people trying to remember what normal feels like.

Vincenzo tips his head once, already accepting it, and steps back from the table.

He reaches for the door, checks it with one last look at Nikki, then goes out and pulls it mostly shut behind him.

Faith shifts closer on the couch, her hand waiting open between them, and the room finally feels private enough to breathe in.

Nikki crosses to the door with a quiet, deliberate step and slips the lock into place. The latch catches with a soft, final click.

She tests the handle once. It holds. The mostly shut door does not budge.

Faith’s shoulders ease as she watches Nikki turn back from the door, the open hand still waiting on the couch.

Outside the door, the hallway stays quiet. Inside, the small room feels a little warmer, a little safer, as Faith makes room beside her.

Nikki crosses to the couch and lowers herself beside Faith, close enough that the cushion dips between them. Faith turns toward her at once, arms opening without hesitation.

Nikki folds into Faith’s embrace and holds on tight. Faith rocks with the impact, then steadies, one hand splaying between Nikki’s shoulder blades.

Her Chicago accent softens the words, rough at the edges but warm. The powered-off phone sits dark on the nearby surface, ignored for the moment.

Nikki lets the last of her tension drain out and rests her head against Faith’s shoulder. The room goes still around them, save for a quiet breath shared in the narrow space between couch and wall.

Faith shifts only enough to settle more comfortably under the weight, her arm tightening with gentle certainty. Her Chicago accent brushes the silence when she speaks, low and steady.

Nikki closes her eyes, and the safe room feels smaller in a good way, like the walls are finally keeping something out instead of trapping anything in.

Her hand moves in a slow, absentminded stroke between Nikki’s shoulder blades, a small rhythm that keeps time with the hush of the room.

Faith shifts her weight, making room without breaking contact, and draws Nikki in closer. The couch gives a soft creak under the extra weight, but the room stays hushed.

Her hand settles at Nikki's back again, slower now, like she is marking out time one breath at a time. The phone on the side table stays dark and ignored.