Sienna
The next day crept in slow, sunlight spilling through the curtains in soft streaks. My eyes blinked open to the familiar ceiling of home — not Dubai’s skyline, not hotel walls, just… home. Jaxon was downstairs, I could hear the clink of dishes faintly. We were both still a little dazed from the trip, bodies aching, sleep still clinging to us.
After breakfast, our parents headed off to work, leaving the house in that calm silence that follows early mornings. I sprawled on the couch, scrolling through my phone, half-watching some random show on TV. Jaxon lay across from me, one arm thrown over his eyes, pretending to nap.
It was peaceful — until the sound of a blaring car horn tore through the calm. Once, twice. Then again.
I groaned, sitting up. “Who’s that?”
Before Jaxon could
