The morning feels wrong before I even leave the house.
Not in a dramatic way—nothing obvious. Everything looks the same. The kitchen smells like coffee, Auntie hums softly as she moves around, and the sunlight spills across the floor like it always does.
But underneath it, something is different. I feel it in my chest. In my skin. In the way every sound seems just a little too sharp.
“You’re quiet this morning,” Auntie says, glancing over her shoulder.
I grab something small to eat, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “Just tired.”
That part isn’t a lie.
She watches me for a moment longer than usual, like she’s debating whether to push. Then she sighs softly.
“Long week already?” she asks.
“Something like that.”
She nods, but her eyes linger on me. “If something’s going on, you know
