Selena's POV
Stepping into the house, I felt as though I’d walked into a den where old grudges and silent accusations hung thick in the air. The dim hallway seemed to swallow me whole, and each footstep felt heavier, as though it were pulling me into the past. Despite the looming dread, I straightened my shoulders and steeled myself for the inevitable onslaught that awaited me. I wasn’t just bracing myself for words; I was preparing for wounds that would open again, even if they’d never properly healed.
As expected, the dining room was alive with the muffled sounds of dishes clattering and the low hum of conversation, though it hushed when I entered. They all turned to look, each face bearing a different expression, but none of them surprised. My father was the first to break the silence
