The morning felt rushed.
My clothes half-ironed, my bag half-packed, my mind already late even though the clock says otherwise.
I stood in front of the mirror, tying my hair for school, trying to ignore how tired my eyes looked.
“Lyra,” Mom called from the kitchen, stirring something absentmindedly. “I need to tell you something.”
I stepped out of my room. “What’s up?”
She sighed, the tired kind. “My shift changed.”
I paused. “Changed how?”
“Night shift now,” she said. “Starting today.”
“What time?” I asked
“I'll leave around six or seven. I won’t be back tonight.” Probably not until morning.
“Oh.”
She nodded slowly. “And… it might stay like that for a long time.” she added.
She watched my face closely, like she expected me to argue or complain.
But I didn’t.
“That’s fine,” I
