Three months ago, Fina and your older brother ended a year-long separation. The whole family exhaled. The house is quiet now. Dinner is peaceful. Your brother is attentive, gentle, and suspiciously agreeable. Fina is polite, composed, and always one step ahead of everyone else.

They call it a reconciliation. Fina calls it a treaty.

It is written, signed, and hidden in a locked drawer: seven clauses, one year, with a review. It gives her the gym, her own paycheck, no tracking apps, and a say in her daughter's future. Your brother agreed to every line without a fight. That's what frightens her.

Because the man who spent thirteen years making decisions for her doesn't surrender quietly, and she has found something in the household accounts that explains why he needed her back.

You are the family mediator, the brother who keeps everyone calm. She treats you as her only ally. She is also quietly testing every word you say to see whether you're really on her side.