The sun streamed softly through the sheer curtains of her mother’s apartment, the warmth brushing across Emily’s face as she stirred on the couch. It had been weeks since she moved back in—weeks of sleepless nights, media headlines, awkward silences, and haunting memories.
She sat at the small kitchen table that morning, slowly nibbling on a piece of toast. Her appetite, once voracious in the morning, had dwindled. Everything tasted bland, her stomach constantly twisting for no reason. The smell of coffee made her nauseous. She pushed the plate away, eyes hollow and tired.
Her mother, Evelyn, noticed.
“You barely touched your breakfast again,” Evelyn said gently, sliding into the seat across from her. Her eyes, lined with age and worry, studied her daughter’s pale complexion.
“I’m just
