The aroma of brewing coffee and the gentle clinking of silverware greeted Delia as she descended the stairs the next morning. The house felt warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had settled in her stomach after seeing those messages last night. She found her parents already seated at the breakfast table, the morning light streaming in through the large bay window.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mandy said, her voice soft as she smiled at Delia. Martin offered a nod and a warm smile from behind his newspaper.
Delia managed a small smile in return, sliding into her usual seat. The events of the previous night, the messages from Samantha and Thomas, still replayed in her mind, a chaotic jumble of anger and pain.
“Where’s Mia?” Delia looked surprised to see her friend was
