Sydney
For a second, I just stood at the door, my chest tight, eyes partly wide as I stared at Mom.
She had her hair sleeked into a neat bun, her face smooth like she’d just finished her night routine, her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked back at me.
And I just felt like running past her out of the house.
But then her lips lifted at the side. And slowly, they curved into a smile.
“Can I come in?” She asked softly, like she was afraid of disturbing the silence in the house.
I swallowed hard and stepped aside quickly.
“Yes,” I muttered, forcing a smile that hurt to form.
Mom walked into my room slowly, her eyes drifting around like she was trying not to make me nervous.
She paused beside my desk for a second before walking over to my bed and sitting carefully on the edge.
