KAIA'S POV
I sat at the breakfast table that morning, staring blankly at my plate in front of me. The smell of warm bread and tea filled the room, but it didn’t comfort me like it should. My fork just lay there, untouched, while the food slowly went cold.
Around me, the normal sounds of breakfast—clinking cutlery, the creak of chairs, my parents softly greeting each other—felt strange and far away, as if they belonged to a life I had stepped out of.
I could hear Dad asking Mom if she’d checked on Dylan this morning, and Mom answering that she had and that he was still sleeping.
But even through that conversation, I could still feel the nightmare clinging to me. Every time I closed my eyes, it was there again: Leander’s face, covered in blood, his eyes empty and lifeless. My heart twist
