Sunday mornings in the Winfield house always carried a strange heaviness, like the air itself knew it needed to tiptoe. Cass felt it the moment she opened her eyes. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that came before an argument. The kind that made her heart tense before her feet even touched the floor.
She brushed her teeth slowly, her body moving through the routine on autopilot. Her eyes were tired. Her shoulders were tight. Her reflection looked like someone holding too much inside.
When she stepped into the hallway, she found her mother already pacing in the living room, phone pressed to her ear, voice shaking in that way Cass recognized immediately.
Her dad.
Cass froze halfway down the stairs.
Her mom’s voice was sharp. “You can’t call only when you feel guilty. That’s n
