Claire
The dinner table was magic. It literally reminded me of the good old days with dad, my mum and me.
Laughter and conversation bouncing across the room, overlapping in the kind of messy, effortless way that only long-time friends could manage. Plates clinked, glasses were lifted, and jokes were thrown around like a game of catch. It felt nice to finally witness something like this again.
I sat quietly, absorbing it all.
I wasn’t much of a talker, especially in rooms like this—where everyone had known each other for years, where there was already a rhythm, an unspoken language between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. If anything, I liked listening. Watching. Picking up on things that maybe they didn’t even realize about themselves.
Like the way Jace, despite the casual smi
