AZALEA'S POV
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My knee bounces underneath the table as I glance at my mother. She's lightly stabbing her fork into her salad, taking every bite without a care, her soul looking so peaceful for once since dad passed. The dining room light casts down from above, making the room brighter.
I guess brighter is better for the news that I have for her.
"Mommy, I'm full." Lyra whines, leaning back in her chair, her shoulders slumped, "Well why don't you go run yourself a bath so long sweetie?" I nervously chew on the cheese in my mouth, smiling as I watch Lyra slide out of her chair and head upstairs. "She ate everything,” Mom beams proudly. “Your lasagna and salad is delicious,” I hold my fork up before taking a bite. Mom knows how to cook, and she taught me too— I just don’t like it. I’d
