Serena dragged herself through the front door, her body heavy with exhaustion and her mind clouded with thoughts she couldn’t shake off.
She looked like a shadow of herself—her once confident stride replaced by slow, unsteady steps.
She tossed her purse carelessly onto the small table near the entrance and leaned against the door for a moment, closing her eyes.
The house was eerily quiet, but Amy’s soft giggles from the other room reminded her of her responsibilities.
She straightened up, forcing herself to move.
In the kitchen, she robotically prepared a simple meal—mac and cheese, Amy’s favorite.
She could barely taste the food as she fed Amy, her mind distant, replaying the cruel words from online comments:
“She’s a fraud.”
“A gold digger.”
“How could she lie about a child’
