Zion's POV
"I still can’t believe that the sweet girl who loves fried rice is actually capable of this," my mother said, her voice heavy with disbelief. Her gaze drifted to the ground, where the dirt and grass seemed to absorb her confusion, as if she were searching for answers in the very soil beneath her feet. I could feel the struggle simmering beneath her words; her disappointment hovered in the air like a dense fog, threatening to envelop us both. I understood her turmoil completely. If someone had asked me just a few days ago, I would have found it equally challenging to reconcile the Angel I once knew—so kind, so gentle, and with an undeniable affection for fried rice—with the shocking actions she had taken recently. Yet, with each moment that passed, I couldn’t ignore the stark an
