In a dark room, Zeya sat on her bed, her heart heavy as Amaya laid her head on her lap. The gentle moonlight spilled through the window, casting silver shadows that danced across their faces, revealing the turmoil within. "We were a happy family," Amaya murmured, her voice slicing through the silence, calm yet filled with an undercurrent of pain. "That's what I always thought," she added, her heart racing, but her eyes held a quiet depth, like the stillness of a midnight sea.
"One afternoon, when I was in grade three, everything changed. One of our drivers came to pick me up in the middle of class, taking me away to the hospital. It felt strange since it was the first time momma and papa didn't come to pick me up," Amaya recalled, her voice tinged with nostalgia. Zeya gently ran her fingers through Amaya's hair, feeling the tension in her body as she listened intently, her heart aching for her.
