I didn’t expect warmth when I pushed open the front door. If anything, I had braced myself for the opposite as usual....the sharp sting of tension hanging in the air, clipped words tossed like knives, cold stares following me from room to room. Maybe even the sight of our shared bedroom turned into a silent battleground, Isabella leaving little messes in my corner just to get under my skin.
But what I walked into caught me completely off guard.
The house felt… wrong. Or maybe too, right?
Dad was in the living room, settled into his favorite spot on the couch with the TV glowing in front of him. And for once, he didn’t narrow his eyes or let out one of his judgmental sighs when I stepped in. He just glanced up, then back at the screen, like I was nothing more than background noise.
Mom’
