Lydia's house feels colder than usual, the dim light doing nothing to soothe the tension clinging to the air. Alex strides into the living room, his steps brisk and mechanical, while Lydia trails behind, her sharp eyes darting between us. I linger at the doorway, my arms wrapped around myself as though that might protect me from the storm that's brewing.
"Sit," Lydia says, gesturing to the couch. Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.
Alex obeys, dropping into the armchair with a sigh, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his temples, his head bowed as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. I hesitate before lowering myself onto the edge of the couch, my movements slow and uncertain.
"What's going on?" Lydia asks, crossing her arms. "You two look like you've seen a ghost."
Alex doesn't answer immediately. His gaze shifts to the table where his phone lies, the screen dark but heavy with the weight of the message it holds.
