Mia sat at the edge of the couch, her gaze drifting away from the maps and the conversations happening around her. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the hem of her sleeve, and before she could stop it, her thoughts took her to a place she hadn't allowed herself to go in a long time.
Her parents.
It always hit her at the strangest times—sometimes it would come up in the most mundane of tasks like brewing a cup of coffee, other times it would hit her on moments like this, when she was teetering on the edge of something huge, something life-altering. They would appear in her mind like ghosts, their presence both comforting and painful.
Would they be proud of her? Of the choices she'd made? Would they understand the mess she was in, or would they tell her to turn back, to walk away from all of this while she still could?
She swallowed hard, blinking against the burn behind her eyes.
