The next morning felt empty.
Not quiet.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
The small house Zara had grown up in suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Her mother's laughter was gone.
Her mother's voice was gone.
Her mother's presence was gone.
Every corner reminded her of loss.
Every room reminded her of pain.
And sitting on the bed beside her, Amara looked just as exhausted.
Neither sister had slept properly.
The previous night had been nothing but tears.
Tears for their mother.
Tears for the betrayal.
Tears for everything that had been stolen from them.
Zara sat quietly staring at the real contract resting on her lap.
Her eyes were swollen.
Red.
Painfully red.
Amara watched her carefully.
"You should rest."
Zara laughed bitterly.
"How?"
Neither of them had an answer.
The silence stretched.
