The next morning, Mia looked worse than the day before. Her eyes were swollen and red, her hair a mess, and she moved like her body weighed a thousand pounds. She barely touched the breakfast Aunt Lisa made — just pushed the eggs around her plate with a fork.
Lisa watched her for a long time before sighing and pulling out the chair beside her.
“Sit down properly, Mia. We’re talking. No running away this time.”
Mia hesitated, then dropped into the chair. She kept her eyes on the table.
Lisa’s voice was firm but kind. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this because you’re eighteen, not eight. Life is going to keep throwing hard choices at you. This is one of them.”
She reached over and took Mia’s hand.
“You made a mistake. A big, painful one. But hiding in your room hating yourself won’t fix
