In the quiet dining room, the air felt heavy, pressing down on two young girls who sat across from each other. The plates of untouched food sat before them like a cruel joke. Neither moved to eat. Neither smiled.
The creak of the door broke the silence, and their mother walked in, carrying a steaming bowl in her hands. Her beauty was undeniable—smooth skin, soft brown curls framing her face, and a radiant smile that didn’t quite reach her weary eyes. She placed the bowl gently on the table and sat down with a practiced calm.
“Mom, I don’t want to eat,” Abby said, her voice small but firm. She looked up, her pretty brown eyes clouded with something far too heavy for a child to bear.
Her mother frowned, concern deepening the lines on her face. “It’s your favorite, honey. Why not?”
Naomi,
