Lena stood at the kitchen counter, heating up leftovers while Grayson sat at the dining table, rubbing his eyes. The kitchen was quiet, except for the faint hum of the microwave.
She peeked over her shoulder at him. His shoulders were tense, and he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world. She hated seeing him like this.
“Do you want water or juice?” she asked, trying to break the silence.
Grayson lifted his head and gave her a tired smile. “Water’s fine.”
She grabbed a glass, filled it, and set it in front of him before placing a plate of pasta on the table. “Eat,” she said gently. “I know you probably haven’t had anything today.” she added.
Grayson picked up his fork, twirling the pasta around it slowly. “I lost my appetite after talking to my dad,” he admitted, then took
