ISAAC'S POV
I watched as Lana's eyes darted between my father and mother, her face a mask of shock and disbelief. The box she'd been carrying hit the floor with a dull thud, echoing in the suddenly silent room.
"Clark?" Lana's voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion. "What is... what is she doing here?"
I felt my muscles tense, ready for the storm I knew was coming. My mother, however, seemed oddly calm. She looked at Lana with a mixture of recognition and something else - pity, perhaps?
"My memory might be blurry," my mother said softly, "but I remember you well, Lana."
Lana's eyes narrowed at my mother's words. She bent down to retrieve the fallen box, her movements stiff and deliberate. As she straightened, I could see her visibly trying to compose herself, smoothing her clothes and taking a deep breath.
