Erica's POV
"Susannah, is it true?" I burst into the room, my voice barely above a panicked whisper. My chest heaved from both running and the weight of the dread that clawed at my insides. The urgency in my question was met with a jarring calmness that froze me in place. There she was, Susannah, seated by a table in the creative room, serenely folding a tablecloth as though nothing in the world had changed.
She didn't even flinch at my entrance. Calm as a dove, her fingers moved methodically, folding the delicate fabric in her lap. I stood there, breathless, staring at her. She didn't look like someone whose life had just been uprooted by tragedy. In fact, I wasn't sure she even heard me the first time.
"Susannah!" I called again, louder now as I took a step closer, my eyes searching her face for any sign of turmoil. "Is Adriel really sick?"