A R I A
The house feels quieter now.
Dinner's over. The plates have been cleared, the laughter has faded into silence, and only the warm hum of the kitchen lights remains. I lean back in my chair, my fingers loosely wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea that I'm not even drinking. It's more of a prop at this point—something to hold onto, something that keeps my hands busy while my thoughts whirl in circles.
Karako and Clary are still here, sitting on either side of me like protective bookends, their presence oddly soothing even though I'm drained. Emotionally, physically... I feel like I've been wrung out and left to dry. But I'm also grateful. Because without them, I don't think I would've made it through the evening without shattering.
Karako gives me a small nudge with her shoulder.
