RUBY JUNE.
The morning was quiet, almost too quiet after last night. I stared at my phone, half expecting a message from Charles, but it didn’t come. I sighed and went to make some coffee, trying to shake off the lingering tension. Maybe he needed time, I thought. Maybe by the time the doorbell rang, he would be standing there, ready to apologize and explain everything.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Charles. Instead, it was my mother.
She stood there with that familiar, tight lipped smile, the one that never quite reached her eyes. "Oh," she said, her tone dry. "You don’t look thrilled to see me."
I swallowed my irritation and stepped aside to let her in. "What are you doing here?"
She didn’t answer immediately, just walked past me, her heels clicking against the floor as she
