Sienna

The next morning felt like walking through a graveyard.

The air was thick, heavy — too still. Every sound felt loud, like it didn’t belong. Even the clinking of plates from the kitchen sounded out of place, like the house itself was holding its breath.

Mum was at the counter, moving quietly as she fixed breakfast. She didn’t say a word to anyone. Her eyes were red, her face pale, and she avoided looking at me completely.

I sat at the edge of the dining chair, staring at the untouched plate in front of me. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t even breathe right.

Dad had already left for work...