~ Avery’s POV ~
The morning was unusually quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that meant peace—but the kind that made Avery's skin itch. Cheryl’s humming drifted from the kitchen, interrupted only by the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic. Her dad was already gone for work. Max was silent at the table, stirring a bowl of cereal he didn’t seem interested in eating.
Avery slid into the chair across from him, her own bowl untouched.
He didn’t look up, but she could feel him noticing her anyway.
Their house had started to feel like a stage—where they were both actors pretending they weren’t aware of the tension simmering beneath the surface. Unscripted silences stretched longer than they should. The pauses between words were filled with unsaid things. She hated it, and yet, she didn’t k
