Nyla
That morning, everything felt heavy.
I did my routine in slow motion — brushing my teeth, showering, getting dressed. Normally I’d be rushing around the house like a tornado, but today even lifting my arms felt exhausting. My eyes were still puffy from crying last night, and no amount of makeup could hide it completely.
When I finally came downstairs, I sat at the dining table and ate my cereal so slowly it was almost cold by the time I finished half the bowl.
“Nyla dear, are you okay?” Mom asked, watching me with concerned eyes.
I forced a bright smile and looked up at her. “Don’t I look fine?” I even added a little chuckle, trying to sound normal.
Mom tilted her head. “No, sweetheart. You don’t.”
Oops. My smile faltered. “I’m okay, really,” I said quickly, laughing it off lik
