Emma 

I sit at my desk, staring at the picture of my father, the one I found on Iva’s laptop.

My fingers hover over the edge of the desk, unmoving. My eyes stay fixed on the image like if I look away, it might disappear and take the truth with it. 

The man in the picture looks normal, kind, even. Not  like the chaos my life has become.

Across the room, Iva is busy typing away, the steady clatter of her keyboard filling the silence. She looks calm, focused, like everything in her world still makes sense.

Unlike mine.

I’m just sitting here, frozen, doing nothing while my thoughts spiral...