Summer’s Point of View
After the events of yesterday, Steven and I kept quiet about what had happened. He was the one who handled my discharge, and later that night, I returned to our house.
As I sat in front of the table, my attention was drawn to the empty coffee cup before me, staring blankly at it. The faint aroma of fresh brew mingled with the scent of evening dew seeping in through the open window, creating a peaceful ambiance. Suddenly, the loud buzz of my phone shattered the tranquility.
I glanced at the caller ID and ignored it, but my eyes remained fixated on the device, waiting for it to stop. Just as I thought it had, the phone rang again, jolting me out of my reverie as it echoed through the entire living room.
“Don’t you want to answer it?” Nana Tere asked, placing yet an
