Nyla
The taxi ride home felt endless. I sat in the back seat, the brown carton resting on my lap, my fingers nervously tracing its edges. All I could do was pray one thing — that Mom and Garrett were already in their rooms, not waiting for me, not worrying. I checked my phone again. No missed calls. That was a good sign… right?
The moment the taxi stopped in front of our house, my phone rang. I grunted, frustration bubbling up. I really wasn’t expecting this, and I wished it had never come. I glanced at the screen. It was Garrett.
Before I could answer, the call ended. The carton was getting in my way as I tried to balance it while walking the short distance to the door. Then my phone rang again. This time it was Mom. They were really worried now. They were probably even outside waiting
