Raika watched in stunned silence as Mia's mother, her face suddenly shadowed by a deep, unresolved pain, spoke in a low voice, "This could be about your father, couldn't it?" Her words hung in the air like a dark cloud, thick with unspoken memories and grief.
Mia froze, her hand hovering above her plate, her fingers trembling. She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she stared at her mother. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating, as if the room had shrunk around them, trapping them in the weight of their past.
"What if it is?" Mia's voice cracked with a mix of anger and sorrow, her words sharp, like shards of glass. The tension in the room exploded, and before Raika could process what was happening, Mia pushed back her chair with a jarring screech. The table shook as her plate and utensils clattered, and in the next breath, Mia was gone, bolting out of the room and into the cold evening air.
