Kourtney woke up the next day with her eyelids heavy and swollen from a restless night filled with tears. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft golden coloring that felt almost mocking against the turmoil in her heart.
She groaned, raising a hand to her forehead, which throbbed painfully—a reminder of her emotional breakdown from the night before. It was as if the universe had conspired against her.
“Good morning, sleepy head. Breakfast is ready!” Lilian’s cheerful voice floated into the room, cutting through the fog of Kourtney's despair, a tray balanced delicately in her hands.
“I made your favorite—avocado toast with a poached egg. You need to eat something, sweetie.”
Kourtney didn’t respond immediately. She lay there, staring blankly at the ceili
