Sunday morning unwrapped itself in slow motion. The golden light drifted in through the curtains, painting gentle lines across Mia’s bed. Outside, birds chirped softly, as if unsure whether the world was awake yet. The breeze that slipped through the cracked window carried the smell of dew and distant flowers.
Mia stirred beneath the covers, her limbs reluctant to move. As she shifted to her side and tried to sit up, a sudden clang exploded in her head. She flinched, eyes squeezing shut, and fell back against the pillow.
Her pulse pounded behind her temples.
She breathed through her mouth, jaw clenched, waiting for the pressure to ease—but it didn’t. The air in the room, once light and soft, now felt heavier, almost oppressive. She swallowed hard, confusion swimming behind her eyes.
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