AZALEA’S POV
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"I'm going to bed, but this..." my mother's finger circles the air, her perfectly pink polished nail glinting as the light catches it, "...This was fun," Her small grin is small, but there's a spark in her eyes that makes her look alive. She's definitely drunk, but so am I.
My eyes feel heavy, yet I don't want to go to bed. The ache that usually sits on my chest has disappeared, the study filled with papers don't bother me one bit, and the floor I'm currently sitting on in the living room is as warm as the single ice cube in my wine glass.
We put Lyra to bed before heating up frozen pizza, and we sang to old songs like it was a choir.
My phone vibrates on the little coffee table in front of me, the half eaten pizza plate next to it vibrating along. I sit forward, head
